


The Trouble With Being The Herald

by KillJoys, Kimakaze



Series: Dragon's Repose [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ace!solas, Angst and Humor, F/F, F/M, FTM, Family Drama, Flirting, M/M, OC main cast, Sadness, Sexy Times, Teleportation, Trans Character, dfab, polyamoury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 20:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 43
Words: 220,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2824970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillJoys/pseuds/KillJoys, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimakaze/pseuds/Kimakaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The collective story of Julien Trevelyan, the human rogue, and Aphel of clan Lavellan, the Dalish Hunter, and their misadventures together.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Accidental Kidnappings

**Author's Note:**

> The collaboration between [Killjoys](http://hime-ponyboy.tumblr.com) and [Kimakaze](http://kimakaze.tumblr.com)  
> Please review and Kudos are much appreciated!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrivals  
> Part 1/14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Julien can be found [here](http://julientrevelyan.tumblr.com/post/105444264705/i-suppose-a-proper-introduction-is-in-order)  
> And Aphel [here](http://double-edged-apple.tumblr.com/tagged/aphel)

The corridor was darker than she expected and Aphel was certainly too tense to place her feet carefully enough, so it was no surprise when a misplaced step or perhaps it was a tear in the carpet sending her tumbling forward into the back of a shrouded figure.

"Oomph- err, my apologies. I was looking for my friend…"

Julien rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. This place was certainly… unusual. And dark. Much, much darker than he expected. He regretted allowing himself to wander around this place so carelessly. His lack of direction had made backtracking nigh on impossible, making his previous status of just simply being lost change to being really really lost.

The room (he assumed as he couldn’t really see that far in front of himself) felt completely foreign to him. He extended an arm, feeling around for a table or wall or something he could use to navigate with and was suddenly jolted forward by the force of someone crashing into him from behind. He was only stunned for a moment until a feminine voice apologizing brought him back to the present.  
Turning around to where the voice came from, he responded in his usual amused tone

“I find it rather hard to believe you were looking for your friend when this place is so dark, you could mistake it for the Deep Roads.”

Aphel quickly struck the light rune and held the lightly glowing stone above her head, illuminating the pale face in front of her. She raised an eyebrow to the human and subtly reached her fingers to lift the bottom of her mask. His red hair, bright even in the darkness and his chin covered in a shadow of stubble. The man raised his hand to shield his soft green eyes before he spoke.

"While that is certainly true, I could ask the same for you… and you haven’t happened to have run into another elf have you?"

Julien coughed into his hand in a vain attempt to cover his childish giggle. Oh puns. Deciding against making another jest, he cleared his throat and crossed his arms over the uncomfortable silverite chest plate strapped to his torso.

“I can’t say that I have. In fact you are the first person I’ve encountered here…. where ever here is exactly." 

He squinted at the elf and noted her golden dalish tattoos striking against her dark complection and short black hair.

"Where-ever? You mean to say you are lost? I swear I was under the impression that humans had internal compasses, like birds… This happens to be the basement of Skyhold. I can’t really explain the mechanism of it but my friend and I were experimenting and I think something must have gone a bit wrong. You aren’t one of those new pilgrims are you? The chantry is in the garden."

Aphel attempted to search around while speaking, their teleportation experiments had seemed futile the first few times but after a week of fevered searching through the dusty tomes he’d gathered, she and Solas  had been beginning to see some results. The boffin couldn’t have gotten too far after the mouse had disappeared in their last attempt.

“Pilgrim? No I- do you not recognize me at all? You must do if were are truly in Skyhold. I'm the Inquisitor… you know, the “Herald of Andraste”? I have the glowing hand and everything”

Julien pulled off his left glove and held up the hand in question, concentrating hard enough for it to glow but not hard enough to accidentally open any rifts or anything. He still was not entirely sure how the thing worked exactly.

"See? That’s undeniable proof, right? Glad we got that cleared up, now would you be so kind as to show me the way to get topside?"

"Oh, Mythal’s arse."

Panic rose in Aphel’s throat. Was this one of those possible dangerous side-effects Solas kept drumming on about? Perhaps the excitement had blinded her a little to the intrigue of using the anchor as a teleportation device.

"The Inquisitor you say? You know I hadn’t pictured you as a human. I think you should probably come with me right now"

She roughly gripped the man’s sleeve and began pulling him back the way she had come, the soft glow from the rune was fading out.

Before he could re-glove his hand, Julien suddenly found himself being led away by the elf. Lead away was the term he chose, ‘dragged out’ didn’t sound as dignified. An intense feeling of annoyance washed over him. This woman was acting strange. Worse than the usual strangeness that came with dealing with elves. There was something going on here. Could he not go a single day without something insane happening?

“You hadn't pictured me as a human? What else would I be? What's going on here exactly?'

Aphel was too frustrated to answer and by the time she had stumbled into the basement library she was thoroughly convinced that the possibility of trans-universal travel was not as useful as she had first believed.

"Solas?? Hey Solas? I think something went wrong here! Forget the mouse and come back here!!"

The Man behind her continued to struggle and attempt detach himself which would have been amusing if it weren’t for the situation. After all, wielding a great sword or a giant axe certainly hadn’t weakened her grip.

Julien realized quickly struggling was futile - this woman’s grip was tighter than a vice. However it brought him no small measure of amusement to pester her with the movements. If she wasn’t going to answer him, he wasn’t going to make this easy for her. When he heard her call out to Solas however, any delight drained instantly and was replaced with uneasiness.

"Solas? Is Solas this ‘friend’ you were searching for? How do you even know him? He’s not exactly the type to go out socializing with random people…"

Oh boy, this was worse than she could have imagined.

"Say, um Inquisitor… I guess Solas hasn’t introduced us yet” she said with a nervous laugh. “I’m his… Cousin... you see… you don’t think you could help me find him? Oh but don’t leave this room.”

Releasing the man, Aphel began pushing the pedestals back upright and arranging the various runes into the reverse diagram. As soon as solas reappeared he could help fix any flaws in her mathematics and -

"Oh!" the mouse suddenly crawled out from a scattering of papers and crawled up the human’s leg.

It was Julien’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Cousins? The two look nothing alike! He opened his mouth to call her out on her bullshit when he was cut off mid-sentence by the feeling of tiny claws climbing up his trousers. A quick glance down identified the owner of these claws to be a small grey mouse. A very cute grey mouse. It got up to his mid-thigh before Julien grabbed the small animal and gently detached its claws from his clothing, being careful not to tear any holes. He petted it gently on the head.

Noticing all the pillars and runes, Julien remarked, “Pretty intricate magic stuff you’ve got going on here… I assume all this has something to do with how evasive you’re being? Don’t see any blood stains around though so Blood Magic is out of the equation…"

Aphel finally stopped what she was doing to properly look at the human.

"You’re quite perceptive aren’t you?"

The rodent nuzzled his fingers and Aphel sighed. It may not be the wisest decision but perhaps if this person truly was another version of herself then she should place a small amount of trust in him.

"Alright. Listen carefully. I don’t want to alarm you but, I need to ask you something. Do you remember how you got here?"

For once, no snarky comeback formed on his lips. He closed his mouth and let the silence sink in as he thought, trying his hardest to remember. The feeling of uneasiness from earlier intensified as he

realised that he couldn't. There was an entire chunk of information missing from his brain.

Trying to suppress the panic slowly setting in, he swallowed then replied to her question, “I-I don’t. The last thing I remember is reading in one of the abandoned towers along the battlements and then… nothing.”

Aphel could truly feel her stomach drop at his words and a sense of dread threatened to overwhelm her.

"This is certainly…unfortunate. I am quite sorry to inform you of this Inquisitor but I really don’t think you are in your own world at the moment." the elf raised her left palm to the man across the room and focused gently, drawing enough fade energy to allow the glow to form in her hand.

"This is all my fault." she hissed to herself.

Julien felt as if time had stopped in that moment. The glow from her hand one hundred percent confirmed it - he was a long, long, long way from home. He silently broke eye contact with her and pulled up a nearby chair to sit on. After releasing the mouse onto the table he ran his hands through his hair, releasing the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

"That… actually makes sense... I guess. Would it surprise you if I told you something similar to this happened to me before? In Redcliffe. Though that time it was a crazed Magister. And I wasn’t so… alone. I have to admit, I am actually impressed you pulled it off… judging by your tone, I assume you don’t know how to reverse this?"

Aphel gazed back at the ritual circle and then back to the man who by now looked quite deflated, though she was glad to note his calm demeanour.

"Yes, I experienced that with Alexius as well. That event happened to be the inspiration for Solas and my experiments. Dorian warned us. I was too ambitious to not listen to him. And yes. Unfortunately I lack the skill to properly perform the spell. I’m not exactly an experienced mage. I can cleave a man in half but I can hardly weave through the delicate threads of the fade. You wouldn’t happen to be a mage would you? I have a feeling our bald friend is not currently with us…”  
Her suspicions of Solas being dragged through the experiment were solidifying more and more as the seconds dragged on.

"I’m afraid not, my skill set lies in archery and picking locks," Julien gestured to the bow on his back and the lock picks on his belt.

"Dorian… My Dorian I mean, is my go-to guy for issues of the arcane… if he were here… If I was with him when this happe- wait did you say you don’t think Solas is with us? Does that mean there are two Solas’ in my world?”

That was both an amusing and terrifying thought. This was a bad situation. A really bad situation to be in. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

In the face of such drama, Aphel couldn’t help but laugh. Even the utterly shocked expression on the man’s face didn’t help and she hunched over, struggling to breathe as her shoulders trembled with laughter.

"Two…two Solas’…."

Tears sprung to her eyes, well if anything could have gone right it would certainly be that two Solas’ together would have twice the mind power.

"Well, Inquisitor. I wouldn’t worry about him then, he’s in good company!" the giggling finally began to calm and she walked over and held out her hand to the seated man. "My name is Aphel of the Dalish clan Lavellan."

Her sudden burst of laughter was certainly a surprise, though not an entirely unpleasant one. It was nice to know this Inquisitor actually knew how to do that. Despite his situation, Julien smiled broadly. She had a point, two Solas’ would undoubtedly make for a quick return to his world. He firmly grasped her hand and shook it.

"Well, met. I am Julien Trevelyan of Ostwick. Now, Aphel, how to you propose we… address this situation? I can’t stay in this room for however long it takes to get me back…"

"Julien, it is a pleasure, despite the accidental kidnaping, I honestly don’t make a habit of this." Aphel decided the appearance of the man was not as disastrous as it could have been, after all he could have been Qunari! The thought made her wince.

"It will be interesting to know what we share human, and I believe there is a certain Tevene you may want to meet. Shall we move on?"

Julien smiled briefly at the notion of seeing Dorian before he reminded himself that this was not his Dorian they were talking about. Regardless, this would be interesting.

"Yes, I must admit I am curious about your world and how it differs from my own. Perhaps we can learn from one another," deciding that sounded a little too scholarly for his tastes, he added "And of course I will offer my assistance in closing rifts, after all two marks are better than one, right? Perhaps I can ease some of the pressure on you."

He flashed what he hoped was a reassuring smile. If anyone knows how stressful being the Inquisitor can be, it’s him.


	2. How to flirt with your boyfriend's clone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrivals  
> Part 2/14

Aphel found relief settling into her chest beside the worry for the missing Elvhen mage. 

The two inquisitors set a brisk pace with the human walking beside her as they made their way up-stairs, in-fact for a while he was leading  _her_  through the labyrinth of halls and wings.

"This really is fascinating." She impulsively mumbled.

"Fascinating is one word for it, I’d use ‘bizarre’. Our Skyholds are the same structurally but your choice of decorations are quite… different from my own."

It really was bizarre. This place _was_ technically his home but it didn’t feel that way. The subtle differences were beginning to bother him. He felt odd and out of place. In a way he couldn’t really describe.

"So I was thinking, perhaps it would be best if we didn’t go throwing my name around outside of Skyhold… if you survived the conclave in this world that means I didn’t. I’m not sure how my family would react to having me suddenly appear out of thin air…”

"I had not planned on it. And I do suppose the Dalish heraldry is a touch inappropriate for your own reality." Aphel replied.

She had been taught many things on appearances and subtlety but hiding her heritage was a step too far. Both Serah and Solas had given her a stiff grimace at her taste of decor but it only fuelled her further and Blackwall and the other humans cheerfully pretended not to notice.

Despite months of work, the main library was still buried in ancient dust with the occasional book or scroll and as they entered the circular room they could hear a faint humming ringing along the stone walls.

"Oh this is Dalish heraldry? Of course it is, how daft of me. What else would it have been? I certainly didn’t recogni-” Julien cut himself off mid-sentence as they crossed the threshold into the library.

He inhaled deeply through his nose. The smell of this place was still the same at least, that brought him a little comfort. Though he would never admit it to anyone, the library was his favourite place in Skyhold. They had all of the classics here - ones he would read over and over to remind himself of those innocent days spent in the library at his old estate with his sister.

The faint humming snapped him out of his reminiscing. He suddenly felt very nervous about meeting this world’s Dorian. What was he going to say? His mouth went dry suddenly.

"You lead the way, oh Lady Inquisitor," he managed to spit out, hoping his jitters didn’t show through.

"Really now… that is the most unrealistic, daft piece of… Who allowed this woman to write something she obviously knows nothing about?"

Dorian flicked the book closed with a snap of his wrist and dumped it ungracefully out the window. The man was sumptuous, short dark hair swept over neatly shaved sideburns and golden brown skin with gentle eyes that are so honest despite his prideful nature. The imperial moustache twitched as his lips curled into a smirk. 

"Dorian, someone went to the effort of hauling these books up here, I really don’t think it is wise to throw them out like that." Aphel chuckled and the Tevene spun on his heal to return the tease with one of his own.

"Better off in a fireplace. Come to gaze upon the most gorgeous man in the castle have you? Or are you trying to bring me some competition?" Dorian asked finally moving his gaze to the sweating rogue beside her.

Julien smiled despite himself. Classic Dorian right there. That look he was giving him was all too familiar. He had to be careful what he said here, keep it subtle and professional.

"Competition? Hardly. Second place isn’t so bad… It’s a good thing silver happens to look amazing on me."

Damn it. So much for that idea. Sighing to himself he shoots an awkward look towards Aphel. Her face is completely unreadable. It was at that moment he decided to never challenge her to a game of Wicked Grace.

Clearing his throat he adds, “So, this got awkward. Do you want to break the news or shall I?”

Dorian looked like the cat who got the cream and his almost stunned silence was something she’d never seen from the man. Looking to her counterpart at his blushing face gave her all the context she needed.

"Spark- Dorian, do you happen to remember that thing you were telling me to be careful with the other week..?"

Without looking away from Julien the mage hummed in recognition and lifted his hand to stroke his small beard.

“Yes that I certainly do… What brilliant auburn hair, you can’t tell me that’s natural.”

Julien felt like he was going to fall through the floor. This was exactly was he had planned on avoiding. Getting involved with Dorian in this world was an extremely bad idea. It could only end in disaster for both parties. Taking moment to compose himself, he attempted to rein himself in.

"Oh it is, I assure you. This particular shade is quite difficult to replicate in dyes… or so I have been told," he replied, taking a small victory in keeping his words on topic.

Realizing he had the man’s full attention, he contemplated just ripping off the glove and showing the mark as he did earlier to end this little dance. No, that was too brash. He broke eye contact with the Tevene and looked at Aphel, hoping he could direct the attention back to her.

Aphel sensed the alert in Julien’s body language and put herself between the two men.

"There has been an un-calculated failure during our experiments. That is to say, the teleportation wasn’t stable and we’ve lost Solas. The good news is that I am fairly certain where he is. The bad news is he has traded place with Julien Trevelyan here. Julien comes from another reality where he is the Herald, not I.”

Dorian’s full attention was now on the elf, his frown becoming stony during her explanation. “Aphel my dear, while I am impressed by your daring research and quite envious that you’ve actually produced a result… WHY DIDN’T YOU INCLUDE ME? You know I have experience with space time manipulation. Honestly what am I here for?” sighing heavily.

Aphel bit her lip and attempted to apologise. “I thought with all the Alexius stuff that it might be hard for you, I’m sorry.”

Julien sighed deeply, he could tell where this was going. They could be here all day exchanging sorry’s and grievances so he stepped forward and placed a hand on each of their shoulders, putting on his determined face.

“Well what's done is done, right? There's no need for this to escalate into a big thing. Fact is, I'm here now and no amount of regrets and apologies is going to change that. So we must move forward and ask ourselves, what's next? I’m sure both the Solas’ back in my world are attempting a fix right now but the fact of the matter is, it will probably be very difficult for them seeing as the only means of tear control that world has, is here,” he lifted up his hand and makes it glow for dramatic effect, “Tell me, Aphel, did your spell require your direct influence? I hope for both mine and your Solas’ sakes it didn’t”

The two men both stared at the elf expectantly and Aphel finally let her fear seep through on her features.

"Well…you see… It was my mark that opened the rift, but Solas was the one with the ability to weave it into a door. Dorian, you’re a mage, what do we do?"

Aphel tried desperately not to panic. How could she be so reckless? She couldn’t take it if another reality was ruined because of her. If it hadn’t been for the deep guilt she’d felt she would never have so brazenly taken the title as Herald or Inquisitor.

"Hey, It’s alright tatts, Dorian is here. Firstly, Julien, am I just as gorgeous here as I am in your world?"

Even though he felt no small measure of dread hearing Aphel’s words, Julien giggle-snorted loudly at Dorian. He **Giggle-snorted**. He hoped for a brief moment that the ground would crack open beneath him and swallow him whole. Maker’s breath, he was a lost cause wasn’t he? So completely smitten it was shameful.

Clearing his throat, yet again, he tried to cover his tracks.

“Most important business first then? I would have to say yes, well close enough I guess, I’d have to take a closer look to be one hundred percent sure,”

He wasn’t sure if it was Aphel or himself that groaned at that one.

Dorian gleamed at the man’s adorable tactlessness.

“I know enough, I think if we trigger the same reaction as before, Solas might be able to finish the job and seal the rift open. Can’t say I am not utterly charmed by you Julien but playing God has fallen out of my tastes.”

Aphel felt herself calming down between them. “That is good to hear sparkler. Just please, nobody tell Cullen. He’d spit fire if he found out we were experimenting.”

Julien breathed a sigh of relief. Thank the maker for small mercies, perhaps now he could stop making a fool of himself.

"You don’t have to tell me twice! I’m not going anywhere near the Commander, if he’s anything like my one, he’ll notice I’m ‘loafing about’ and try to get me to run laps around the courtyard." Julien shuddered.

For a split second out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a flutter of movement behind one of the bookshelves. Curious, he wondered over to it but found nothing, not even a window nearby to disturb pages.

"Say, how active are your Leliana’s spies?"

"I have never seen them, so I assume they are doing their job well... you don’t think this will become a problem do you?"

Would the woman decide finally that she couldn’t be trusted? She wouldn’t put it past the bard to jump in and denounce her position since they had never truly gotten along.

"Hmmm I can’t say, this is a very… odd situation we find ourselves in. It could go either way." Julien shrugged.

Julien had trouble reading his own Leliana’s motivations let alone another ones. This could either help or hinder them… he was leaning more toward hinder but he thought it best to keep that opinion to himself. As eager as he was to get back home, he doubted it would be as easy as Dorian seemed to think. He could be stuck here for a while yet.

"Shall we get this business dealt with then, before things become even more complicated?"

"To the conservatory!" chimed Dorian who seemed all too eager to play court intrigue and make his way out of the dusty prison.

"No Sparkler, to the basement." Aphel reminded him.

"Really... but it’s so dingy down there."

"I thought it was a requirement of all weird magical experiments to be held in dark, spider-web filled dungeons by torchlight?" Julien mused "makes it sound more ominous and dramatic, yes?"

Julien was glad that this reality was the one he got dropped into and not one with humourless strangers. Sure made coping with this situation more bearable.

"I’m actually surprised no one has noticed us yet. Back home, I always have some messenger or diplomat attached to my hip, vying for my attention. Must be nice to be left alone," he added nonchalantly.

Aphel was surprised to hear that.

"The only people who’ve been drawn to me were those gawking Orlesian pilgrims and the occasional dwarf like that Dagna girl. The other city elves and Dalish are able to show solidarity and the Fereldans still seem a little too shocked to approach me. I don’t mind the fame, it serves a purpose, but I fear I lack certain finesse for it."

Dorian lit the stony hall with a sparkling light twitching across his fingers and the three made their way back into the catacombs. Aphel had picked up another few books ranging in subjects from light diagrammatic excerpts on runes to a tome on fade dreaming, probably more relevant as weapons than manuals.

"You don’t mind the fame? Oh my Josephine would love you. I can’t stand it. Being in the spotlight, right where everybody can see you mess up even the simplest decision?  No thank you.” Julien began fidgeting with his hands. He wasn’t sure why he was opening up to these two but it felt good to let all these pent up feelings out.

He continued, “I’m the fourth born child in my family. I wasn’t trained for courtly duties, my parents wanted to palm me off to the Chantry as soon as possible. Literally any one of my other siblings would have been better at this than me.”

Julien glanced at the books in Aphel’s hands. He didn’t understand what any of those titles even meant let alone what was probably inside them. He felt incompetent.

"I guess I should thank the Maker for my amazing ability to bullshit my way through life, huh?" He half-heatedly laughed.

"Really now Julien! Bullshitting will get you places you’ve never dreamed." Dorian reassured, "I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten out of some noble-woman’s lap with just my tongue… and certainly not in _that_ way.”

Aphel found herself grinning at the chemistry between the two men. It was almost disappointing to send away such a charming match for her mage friend.

"That is very true Sparkler. I suppose my clan was quite radical compared to others. We weren’t so insular to see ourselves as some ancient group, separate from the world, nor so unhinged as to not recognise that change and appearance are important when it comes to being treated as equal beings under the Creators.

The reason I was sent to the conclave was because we were concerned for the threat to our equality. When war is about, people become even more afraid of what that which they don’t recognise themselves in.”

"And here we have a prime example of the right kind of tongue." Dorian quirked making Aphel blush in the purple light.

Julien smiled and opened his mouth to make a tongue comment but then closed it upon hearing Aphel speak. He realised he hadn’t really bothered with the elves, City or Dalish, back in his world. Come to think of it he hadn’t really thought about any race other than his own. Sure, he had welcomed whomever he met in his travels into the Inquisition without prejudice but he hadn’t ever attempted anything on a larger scale. Alliances and the like. He winced, aghast at how incredibly insular he had been. He felt ashamed that he’d essentially ignored so large a portion of the population.

“I hate to admit it, but I had never thought about this whole affair too deeply beyond how it affected myself and those directly around me. You bring up an interesting point of view, Aphel, one I will address when I get back home. Your clan is ‘Lavellen’, correct? Perhaps I will try to contact them.”

Aphel felt a deep pain in her chest.

“I wonder about that” she whispered but chose not to say any more.

Dorian placed a comforting palm on her shoulder as they entered the room, torches still burning softly in their sconces. 

"I’ve already set up the runes and place the appropriate crystals where they will be able to conduct the most of your mana Sparkler, I can’t explain exactly the method solas used but his notes may help you. Julien, this all must be quite traumatic for you. I apologise for the trouble I’ve caused.”

Julien sensed that he’d somehow upset Aphel but knew it was best not to pry. He had meant well but obviously he was missing something. Sighing silently to himself he glanced at each of the pedestals. Nope. Still had no idea about what that was all about.

“I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a little bit, however you shouldn’t be sorry. I find it’s always a good thing to get a fresh perspective, yes? You’ve given me a lot to think about and I have to admit, even though it hasn’t been that long, I’ve enjoyed your company,” he placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled.

He suddenly remembered a rather heated debate he’d had with his Bull earlier that week regarding the mark and its effects on the wielder. Deciding this was probably going to be his only chance to get a proper second opinion and save his dignity, he asked Aphel.

“This is probably a completely random question but I have to ask. Does closing rifts make you incredibly hungry? Like, hypothetically speaking of course, you just feel the need to eat say… two entire cheesecakes by yourself? Please this is very important.”

 _Hungry?_ Aphel’s mind stalled.

"Err, no… not hungry… though, to tell the truth I do find myself with an overwhelming urge to climb trees."

"Fascinating you two, do you think that this "anchor" might be impacting on your deepest desires?" Dorian mused in the background.

"Well I am more than relieved to hear that I’m not going mad." Aphel chuckled.

Julien cursed. He was hoping to use the anchor as an excuse to eat all the desserts he wanted without Bull commenting on his… possible weight-gain. He knew there had to be something up though because he certainly didn’t have such an insatiable craving for sweets befor- Wait deepest desires?

“I don’t think that’s it… I can assure you, downing loads of rich desserts is not on the top of my deepest desires list.” He shamelessly shot a look Dorians way. “Perhaps it’s more along the lines of our bodies finding something to bring us comfort after such an arduous ordeal? Does climbing trees calm you?”

"Oh yes, it has always been an escape for me since I was a young child. Sometimes I would even fall asleep up there and my clan would be wandering around calling out to me only to find me bleary-eyed, trotting back to the keeper like a little lost nuglet." The memory was fond but again the nagging loss of her clan sapped the joy from the moment.

Aphel pulled her shimmering green Greatsword Ophelia from her back and used her pocketed sharpening stone on its edges, trying to distract herself.

After hearing such a cute story, Julien was reminded of his own childhood.

“I used to get my twin sister, Gwyneth, to distract the cook at our estate while I snuck into the kitchen to steal whatever cakes I could find for the two of us. I remember just eating so much we both got real sick and couldn’t move. My brother found us hours later just laying down on the ground, moaning from stomach aches. He was a total goody-goody even back then though so he ran off to tell Father. You’d think he would have let the sugar-coma be our lesson but noooo. We weren’t allowed near the kitchen for months”

Julien took a moment to think about his family and wonder briefly if they were feeling Gwyneth’s loss as hard as he was. They probably weren’t. They didn’t care when the Templars came for her, why would they care if she died? Swallowing the lump in his throat he glanced up and realized Aphel wasn’t looking too happy either. Painful memories like his he suspected.

“S-so this ritual thing. Do you need me to do anything specific or should I just stand here and look pretty?” Julien laughed weakly.

"Well it isn’t a requirement but you are certainly welcome to do just that." Dorian smirked at the rogue.

Aphel suddenly dropped the sanding stone from her left hand as a sparking pain shot through it deep into her shoulder blade.

“Aughh!”

A look of concern spread across Julien’s face as he stepped towards the elf with haste.

“What’s wrong?” He inquired, reaching out to her slowly, unsure if grasping her shoulder would be an appreciated gesture in her state.

He assumed it was the mark that was paining her. He remembered vividly how much it hurt right after the conclave and this looked like it could be similar.  

The pain refused to subside and static charge shot into the centre of the room from the elven woman’s anchor.

It hadn’t felt this way since very early on, before the sealing of the breach and Aphel felt herself being tugged.

"Dorian! Dorian you need to stabilize it! PLEASE!"

Aphel grabbed Julien’s sleeve as she had before in an attempt to shove him away from herself. She would rather not have found out what would happen if the two anchors somehow crossed together. But before the contact was lost, her heart jumped into her throat as the distortion of reality engulfed the two heralds.

Julien felt as though he was going to either throw up or die. Maybe both. Whatever was happening was making him feel very ill. This all felt strangely familiar however, he had a strong feeling of Deja vu. He found himself throwing his arms around Aphel and pulling her closer to him. If what he thought was happening was happening, then he definitely did not want to get separated from her.

He heard Dorian yelp in distress before all the sights and sounds around them turned to nothingness. Then there was a silence and a feeling of falling which ended with a hard thud as they hit the ground.


	3. Gloriously, without cheesecake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrivals  
> Part 3/14

In her dream, Aphel was climbing a great white she-oak, its boughs extending higher and wider over the landscape. Her limbs were small, as though she were a child again and gradually as the sky darkened she wondered if she was close to her family.

The thought made her want to go home, back to the Aravel and the warm embraces of the mothers. She felt herself slip, and felt only the rushing dread as her stomach bottomed out, waking with a jerk and a wildly thumping chest.

Julien coughed loudly as fresh, crisp air rushed back into his lungs. The light stung his eyes when he tried to open them so he gave up on the endeavour for the moment. Feeling the small body beneath him jerk, he rolled off to the side, hoping he didn’t crush her too badly.

The ground felt nice and soft beneath him and the smells of wild berries and flowers filled his senses. He felt like he could just sleep for days here. But things needed to be done, he needed to survey their situation and figure out a proper course of action. He slowly eased his eyes open, letting them adjust to the light little by little.

They were in a forest clearing of some kind. There were lush green trees filled with lots of tiny little birds chirping away and a small lake not too far away from them. It had been so long since he’d been out in the wilderness like this without demons or bandits attacking him on sight. It was quiet in a way that made him feel completely at ease. As he glanced around further till he realised this place looked familiar. Could it be?

“I… I think we’re near Ostwick?”

The sun stung her retinas and the sounds of the wilderness almost had Aphel believing she was still dreaming. Until of course a sharp sting of sliced flesh reminded her of her very real and alive self.

Julien turned over to her, his proclamation had her confused. Ostwick… they had… shifted across the sea? But were they even still in her reality?

The pain refused her thoughts and as Aphel fought to rise she noticed it had been her own veridium greatsword that had grazed her thigh.

"Fucking nae sa’vunin!"  _not a single day goes by without trouble.._

Hearing his elven companion swear surprised Julien for the briefest moment before he realized she was bleeding. He scooted quickly back over to her, grabbed a handkerchief from one of his pouches and immediately applied pressure to the wound. Having been on many an unsuccessful hunting trip with his father and brother, he knew how to deal with cuts like this fairly quickly.

“Shit, you really need to invest in a sheath or something. I have to keep it like this for at least five minutes before I can examine it properly, don’t suppose you packed any healing potions?”

"Unfortunately sheaths aren’t so useful for a blade longer than my arm, but I don’t usually go hurtling though space rifts either. Thank-you, I have this." Aphel pulled a small vial of the orange regeneration potion she kept in her vest and downed it in a gulp.

"Do you know this area well? A village or fort would be useful."

Julien kept the pressure on her leg, regardless of the potion – better safe than having to carry an elf with an infected leg through the forest. He looked more closely around the clearing to see if he could see any landmarks. He soon spotted a distinctive rock next to a trail through the trees.

“A few of the noblemen I know use this spot to camp when they realise they’re too fat to go on much further and send out their servants to do it for them,” he spat, Lord Vennor in particular was infamous for doing that. The dirty cheater.

“This place is not far from the city, maybe a 4 hour trek? I don’t recall any villages that are closer.”

"That is good to hear. My cartographic knowledge beyond Ferelden and parts of Orlais is limited I am ashamed to say, even being mainly from the Marches. My Dalish heritage doesn’t come with an automatic interest in geography.” Aphel admired his work of bandaging up her leg and wondered why she herself hadn’t taken any lessons in first aid. She hoped it wasn’t any sort of pride. "Julien, I may have to ask you to teach me that some time."

“It sounds like you know more of the world than I do. The Conclave was my first time leaving Ostwick. Getting there by myself was a task and a half.”

Julien stowed the handkerchief back into his pouch and rose to his feet, offering a hand to Aphel. He was both eager and dreading going back to the city. It felt like a lifetime ago now, he was worried they might have changed everything and he’d find himself lost. Or you know, they got dropped into a reality where he was still alive. That could be an awkward run-in.

“Oh I’m sure I’ll somehow manage to run into a bear trap or something, then I can teach you how to suture wounds while I’m at it,” he laughed.

Aphel looked at the human beside her and considered his words. “Though our roles are the same, our battles the same, we are certainly not. They told me I was chosen by their Andraste, and I decided I would be the person to fill that role to change and help my people as best I can. You’ll find your own way to do that.”

They began walking, unsteadily at first, but the cool breeze under the warm sun made their traveling almost comfortable.

Julien chewed the inside of his cheek a little. She was so wise and thoughtful and he just… well bumbled around mostly. He was honestly a little jealous of her strength.

“My way was telling them I was no ‘chosen one’. I felt no divine intervention. Why would Andraste, assuming she actually exists, pick me out of all the people at the conclave? There were dozens, if not hundreds of people there that would have been better choices. I’m not dutiful or wise or even selfless like you. I wasn’t even there for the peace talks… I just wanted to bring my sister home.” he paused for a moment to take in a deep breath, “I lead with the promise of the truth. I told Mother Giselle my struggles are my own and I truly believe that, I won’t let idle fantasies and wishes make me seem larger than what I am. I let my people know - I’m just a man who’s trying to clean up the mess Corypheus left behind.”

He didn’t mean to become so heated but he felt strongly about this particular topic. It perhaps wasn’t the wisest or most mature outlook on his situation but this was the one thing he put his foot down on.

Aphel laughed softly, his honesty was something she had wished she could have and was amused that this other “herald” had been so completely different from her.

"I am envious of you for that Julien. Sometimes I feel as though I’m not even being seen past my title and my mark, I suppose this must be what King Sebastian or Empress Celene feel."

The slight euphoria of the potion was pulsing through her and Aphel was relieved to have someone finally to understand the position she was in.

Suddenly a thought hit her. “I hope sp-Dorian is alright, and now that we are here I wonder if Solas even turned up… I…I hope he’s safe.”

Julien noted her concerned tone and gave her a reassuring smile.

“Dorian will be fine. He’ll be worried he’ll be blamed for your disappearance, but that spy from earlier will confirm my presence. You however, will probably get your ear nagged off by Cassandra when you get back,” Julien snickered.

He thought about Solas for a moment and something occurred to him.

“Perhaps this recent jump was caused by Solas’ attempt at returning? He might have tried to use magic to force your mark into opening a door from our side? Obviously whatever happened backfired? I wonder if we’re even still in your world. Perhaps when we get to the city we should hit up a local tavern and see if we can find out anything about the Inquisitor,” he paused for a moment, groaned and added, “I’m going to have to wear a helmet or something, I can’t let anyone see my face.” 

"Good thinking. That is reassuring."

The sun began dipping into the horizon by the time they saw any form of civilization and Aphel found her wound had sealed quite neatly. Unfortunately it was about this time that the weather turned to a steady outpouring of cold icy rain.

Julian gleefully laughed and tilted his head upward to allow the rain to fall directly onto his face. It had been a while since he’d actually been caught in the rain - something that didn’t bother him as much as it did others. He found the greatest part about it was having a nice hot bath afterwards. There were few better feelings in the world then letting the warmth seep into your bones while you listened to the rain beating down on the roof. It then occurred to him that there would be no bath waiting for him, neither was there a guaranteed roof to hide under. Well shit.

Letting his moment of whimsy die, he lowered his head and looked to the horizon to see his grand city ahead.

“It somehow looks less impressive than I remember… perhaps I’ve been hanging around Val Royeaux too much,” he noted.

"It looks like a lovely place to live. Not too gaudy."

Aphel took the opportunity to scrub her fingers through her hair and wash the grit and dirt from her skin. The cold rain was far from comfortable but as it muddied the earth she couldn’t stop herself from removing her heavy sabatons and shoes.

"That is better" she sigh and laughed easily, "This really is a nice place."

“Lovely is one word for it I guess, I would have chosen stuffy. You’ll get sick of seeing chantry gardens, trust me.”

He scrunched up his nose at the mere thought of even going near the main plaza. So many chantry sisters and brothers shaking baskets, requesting tithes. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to go that far into the city, exploring the poorer area was going to cause enough troubles as it is. Remembering his earlier suggestion, he realised he didn’t have a helmet. He didn’t even have a hood to cover his, let’s be honest, rather distinctive hair colour. He turned to Aphel to ask for suggestions when he noted her lack of footwear.

Temporarily distracted, he said, “Doesn’t that bother you? The mud, I mean… how can you even stand the feeling of mud squishing beneath your toes?” he shuddered a little.

"It feels so much better…It’s been so difficult wearing these shoes, but Leiliana would scold me for wandering around bare footed and Vivienne simply refused to be near me. How does it feel to you?"

Strapping the clanking footwear to her belt she wondered about disguises. Varric had shown her a few tricks to going unnoticed and bending down she scooped up a clump of mud and quickly brushed it into the man’s bright auburn hair, turning it a dull brown.

“I am beginning to think all elves just have a thing against footwear. Sera is the only elf I know that actually wears them and she doesn’t really count. As for mud it feels gross and slimy an-,” Julien cut himself off as he let out a quiet squeal.

Slightly amused with the man’s grimace she pulled a strip of green-dyed weave from her under-vest and wrapped it around his head, covering his left eye.

She dumped mud into his hair. Mud. In his hair. And to add insult to injury, she rubbed it in. Julien did not think himself a germaphobe but he most certainly did not like being covered in filth. He froze on the spot, his brain scrambling to do something, anything, but all he achieved was a continued whine escaping his mouth. He stood completely still as she covered his eye, too stunned to even resist.

Aphel grinned “There, now you look like every other dirty common refugee. I suppose human feet are not as sensitive perhaps. Anyway _Dalton_ , you’ve never been to Ostwick before, have you? Just here for the famous cheese, right? Hmm, yes, looking like that I doubt you’ll get more of a sideways look than an elf will.”

Julien’s whimpers made her feel a little sorry for the man but she still found herself a touch excited to find out about him and his family.

Julien opened and then closed his mouth. She was right, maker damn her. This disguise was better than anything he would have come up with. He was just going to have to deal with it.

The entrance was only lightly guarded but the two were let through and she wondered if Ostwick was the only place feeling such luxury to have its guards slack off so much.

“You owe me soooo much cheesecake for this,” he grumbled, falling in line next to her as they passed through the gates, subtly hunching over a little and changing his stride to hide his good posture.

The city looked the exact same as when he’d left it. Still bustling with life and, by the looks of it, completely untouched by the breach. He let out a sigh of relief. As much as he disliked this place, it was home. Tugging on Aphel’s arm, he led her east, towards the poorer section of the city.

“We should head to the Drowning Nymph Tavern, that’s where all the town gossips gather… er, I mean, we could find out where this famous cheese is?”

The two walked with purposeful steps to the front of a thatched tavern in a lantern lit street with white plastered walls and dark wooden struts. The sign slung above the door was a whimsical blue fairy posing exotically (not quite so much like drowning in Aphel’s opinion) in a flagon of ale, and the sounds coming from inside were of a bards hasty strumming and the jovial choir of tipsy patrons, who were still sober enough to know the words.

"This town seems almost like a haven compared to some of the smaller ones in west Ferelden."

“I guess it’s far enough away it is not effected by the breach, thank the Maker. I would advise staying away from the Alienage and slums if you want to keep that positive outlook though,” Julien whispered to her, being careful as to not attract attention to themselves.

With his fake hunched over walk, he stepped across the threshold and into the tavern. A quick glance showed no one he recognised here. He breathed a sigh of relief and ushered Aphel to one of the booths near the back. Almost immediately a waitress came over to their table with pen in hand.

“What can I get you two for today? You both look completely starved, might I suggest the daily special? It’s turnip soup with grilled leeks,” she asked with a pleasant smile.

"Thankyou, I’ll have a strong tea and the leeks, and if you could find a slice of cheesecake m’lady, it would be much appreciated." Aphel leant back and gazed around to the main area, noting only two other swordsmen clanking mugs cheerfully and a group of shady looking dwarves.

The waitress scribbled down Aphel’s order quickly and turned to Julien. She tilted her head and squinted her eyes a little at him.

“You look familiar, if you don’t mind me sayin’, sir. Are you from around here? I can’t quite place you,” she said sheepishly.

Julien felt his stomach drop and he looked up at her. Oh shit. He does recognize her. She was in the chantry choir with him when they were children. No idea what her name was, but they did cross paths on a few occasions.

Putting on his best Fereldan accent he replied, “Oh no, I’m afraid not. This is our first time in Ostwick. Me and my companion here are simply staying until this rain passes. On our way to Antiva we are. I’ll just have a glass of wine, thank you.”

The waitress didn’t seem convinced but she nodded, wrote down his order and went back to the kitchens.

"By the creators Dalton that one was a looker, she doesn’t remind you of someone, does she?”

Aphel attempted to distract the woman by doing the opposite and drawing her attention, imagining it like a game of wolf and hare.

When she noticed the woman’s backwards look of disgust she was satisfied with herself.

Julien smirked, shaking his head at Aphel’s antics. Clever one, she was. He went to rub his head but remembered the mud caked in his hair. A fresh look of disgust washed across his face.

"So, what plan do you have here? What options do we have? I don’t suppose a trip to the Trevelyan household is on the table?" Aphel asked, unhooking her greatsword Ophelia and leaning it against the wall.

“You know, a quick trip home to get a nice hot bath with the rose scented oil doesn’t sound like a half bad idea… no, we still don’t know our situation really. Perhaps we should attempt to wrangle information out of the waitress when she comes back?”

A loud crash resounded loudly throughout the tavern as a man flew through one of the front windows, crashing to the ground in a hail of broken glass. There was a loud groan and then the sound of armoured boots hitting the wooden floorboards as a rugged looking man with dirty blonde hair and a large scar running down his face jumped through the window after the downed man.

The barkeep dropped his towel and rushed around the counter, “Just what is this all about? Throwin’ men through my window! How dare you!”

“This man cut the purse off Lady Tallan’s belt. Justice will be served,” the blonde man said coldly, lifting the downed one by the collar, “The Trevelyans will see to the repairs, never you mind.”

Julien quickly dived under the table ungraciously.

“Oh shit! Hide me, it’s my brother!” he hissed to Aphel quietly. So much for avoiding them.

Aphel grabbed her greatsword and threw a smile at Julien who cowered, pretending to tie his shoes. “Excellent, waste not the fallen fruit.”

Walking quickly behind around the group of dwarves trying to shuffle out inconspicuously, she raised her muddied foot to crush the fallen man’s arm as he reached for a dagger.

"Your Lordship, Allow me to assist you, I have seen this vagabond skulking around and even witnessed his theft. If you need a statement I can provide it. I am Kallen of the clan Ralaferin."

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit,” Julien chanted to himself.

What is she doing? If he went over there with her, Andre would recognize him immediately but he couldn’t stay here and separate himself from her either. What if she jumped again unexpectedly and he was left behind?

Andre looked at the elf with a stony expression, unimpressed.

“That won’t be necessary, Dalish. There were plenty of witnesses outside. I will drag this man to the city guard immediately where he will answer for his crimes. Go back to your drink and leave this matter to me.”

He went to haul the man up and noticed her foot pinning his quarry.

“Remove your foot.”

Aphel was almost dissuaded by the outright rejection.

"My Lord, but I also have grievances of my own with this man. It would shame my people to not be a part of his justice. If you are so certain, allow me to watch as he is judged." She wondered if the threat of losing ties to a local clan would even matter to the stern looking man who seemed more interested in his pride than justice. "If not, then allow me to duel you for his fate."

Aphel then risked a glance back to her partner who seemed to be trying to hide while staring intently at her, his one eye wide and with face looking only a little green.

A duel? Is she serious?! As strong as Aphel looked, Julien knew that if it came down to it, his brother would grind her into dust. The man was completely unhinged when it came to fighting – like he stopped being himself and became a force of nature. He was frozen in indecision. What do I do?

Andre looked thoughtful for a brief moment before he released an exasperated sigh that sounded more akin to a hiss.

“Very well, if you feel you must. I don’t wish to cause any more of a scene than I already have. Gather your belongings quickly. The justice system in Ostwick is not renowned for its speed, we are likely to be at the Constabulary all afternoon.” 

With a slight bow, Aphel turned to walk back to her seat, picking up the bartender’s cloth on the way.

"Brilliant, this will definitely get us in to the thick of it. Sorry for the hassle but here, tie this over your mouth. Honestly, Lords and Ladies can’t see past their own nose, they wouldn’t bother with you when you look like this."

Julien released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Taking the cloth from her he went to tie it like a bandanna but caught a whiff of what smelled like stale rum and beef jerky.

“Seriously? This is the worst! You couldn’t find anything cleaner?” he whined. The deadpan look he received silenced any further complaints he might have had.

Aphel made sure to take Julien’s breast-plate and tie it to her back to make him appear poorer than he was, silverite wasn’t exactly a common metal, and with that they went to follow the Blonde’s entourage.

The grimy man who’d been captured watched her closely and she wondered if his crime was simply being poor.

Travelling with his brother again made him feel nostalgic. Well, travelling with was putting it loosely. He was walking at the back of the group as far away as possible from his brother. Aphel had been correct, he hadn’t even received so much as a glance from the man. Studying his brother, he noticed he looked tired, like he hadn’t had a good sleep in days if not weeks. His usually clean shaven face now sported a short scraggly beard and there were fairly dark circles under his eyes. What had happened to him?

 

“Now before we get there, I would know what grievances your clan has with this man. I need to know all the facts before we go in,” Andre said, not even looking at Aphel.

"Killing a Halla is a sacred crime, I would have him taken back to my people if it were possible. I ask your Lordship to carefully consider this proposition, as our Keeper and hunters would certainly be grateful enough to keep watch for futher threats to these lands. You know of the Breach surely. They say the demons and darkspawn are climbing out of their holes all over Thedas."

Josephine would certainly be proud. Threatening and offering a service in one fell swoop. She only hoped this attachment would bring her enough into the warrior’s graces to garner more information. She looked once again to the prisoner who seemed far too worried over who exactly was planning on taking his head to make a sound.

Andre considered her words for a time. “Sounds like a sufficient enough reason I suppose. I don’t know elven laws well enough to know if your accusations are sound however. I don’t have the authority, nor the desire to accept any agreements you may offer to the city, you will have to bring them up with the Guard Captain. All I care about right now is keeping my family and our associates well looked after. He have had a great loss in the family recently and I won’t let foreign politics distress my father further,” he paused for a moment as he adjusted the ropes on the prisoner so they bound his hands tighter. “To be honest, the rest of the world could burn and I would care less. If you want my opinion, your clan would be better off seeking the assistance of the Inquisitor directly if the breach concerns you. I’ve heard she is one of yours.”

Julien was disgusted at his brother behaviour. He was an ass but he wasn’t usually this much of an ass. He shot Aphel a worried look and shook his head. He hoped it was enough to communicate how oddly he thought his brother was acting.

"Certainly, your lordship."

Aphel sighed with a small amount of relief… so they hadn’t jumped realities. It was good news for her, but dropping back beside her human friend made her rethink that.

"I’m sorry Julien, I’ve failed to send you home. Seeing your family here must be troubling. And I doubt I can get that prisoner out of any punishment. What do you suggest?"

Julien felt torn. He knew the sensible thing to do was just leave as soon as possible, leave the prisoner to his fate and get back to Skyhold ASAP but he didn’t want that.

“It… hurts me more than words can express to… to see him like this. I want to talk to him, see if I can help him, but I’m afraid of how he’ll react…” he said softly. This was his brother they were talking about. Screw it. He knew what he had to do.

Before Aphel could react, Julien marched up to Andre, put a hand on his shoulder and said quietly, “I think we need to talk about that attitude, Butterball”

Andre froze and turned to shove his hand away but caught Julien’s gaze. He was completely glued to the spot, a look of confusion briefly washed over him but changed almost immediately back to his usual neutral expression. He exchanged looks between his brother and the elf.

“Explain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nae sa'vunin : Not a single day (i.e. Not a single day can I go without stupid shit happening to me.)
> 
> Please leave a comment or review, this story means a lot to both it's authors and It would be greatly appreciated!  
> ~ Killjoys & Kimberlin


	4. I'm the herald and this is my free real estate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrivals  
> Part 4/14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a quick update **  
> Please leave your comments and reviews! It would mean so very much to us, especially to tell us how much you love it hehe.  
> Thanks everyone for your support  
> ~Written by Myself and Kimberlin

Julien’s movement shocked her, he hadn’t been so forward since now. Seeing his brother must have pushed him further than she’d expected.

"A message from the inquisition, Master Trevelyan. We would request an audience before this night is done, if that suits you Serah.”

Aphel couldn’t help but relish the form of address and the slight recognition on the warrior’s face told her he understood her meaning. One or two of his guards turned with shocked expressions and open mouths but a raised hand from their leader silenced them before they could protest.

“Take the prisoner Captain Jenson. I’ll leave you here.”

Aphel placed her palm on Julien’s shoulder as they were guided apart from the group, hoping against all hope that they hadn’t just made a gigantic mistake.

After explaining everything to Andre in the seclusion of one of the private rooms in an upper-class cafe, Julien leaned back in his chair.

“And that’s basically it. I know this is a lot to take in right now but-” Julien was cut off by his brother punching him square in the jaw with an un-gauntleted hand. He flew backwards off his chair and sprawled out across the floor.

“You rat. You fucking rat. You couldn’t leave well enough alone, that conclave invite was mine! I should have been there! You… you died needlessly,” Andre fumed, tears threatening to spill out down his face.

Julien got back up, righted the chair, sat down again and rubbed his jaw. That was going to swell something bad.

“Ok I deserved that, but I would do it again! I needed to bring Gwyneth home… she was my twin, ‘Dre,” He sighed, “Look, it sounds like you blame yourself and you really shouldn’t. It was my decision and I faced the consequences. The family needs you more than it needs me, you always were the strongest out of all of us” he smiled kindly. "I hope you know, you can’t tell the others about me. I… I can’t stay here. I need to go back to where I belong, there are people who depend on me now.”

Julien glanced at Aphel and hoped she didn’t feel too awkward, though she looked like she was enjoying her tea.

“I’d like for you to convince the others to support the Inquisition… say it’s what Gwyn and I would have wanted.”

The two brothers were still heatedly in deep conversation when Andre walked towards Aphel, arms crossed against his breast plate.

"You’re Jules’ replacement, is that it? Inquisitor?”

Julien squirmed while looking to the back of his brother and Aphel lowered the cup and looked up at the blonde man’s fierce gaze.

"In this world, Andraste chose me, not Julien. In his, it is the other way. You’ve suffered a great loss and I am deeply sorry for that. But please take whatever small comfort you can, knowing that the Julien standing here has lived. I know that if I hadn’t survived, my Clan would never have been attacked and murdered, so please do not think I feel no regret in this."

Aphel lowered her eyes again signalling that that was all she would say. She was certainly glad that Julien was alive somewhere.

Julien was at a loss for words. Her clan, murdered? That explains how he upset her back at Skyhold.

“Red Templars or Venatori? I’ll ensure it doesn’t happen on my end.” Julien said with determination.

Aphel smiled at Julien, “Neither. I came too late to save them from bandits. It was no one’s fault but mine. You see if I hadn’t contacted them to aid us in Haven, they would have already moved on.”

Andre looked back at his brother and saw a changed man - one who had great responsibility and handled it well. With a defeated sigh, he let his arms drop to his side.

“I apologize for my poor manners, Inquisitor, I’m afraid I’m still grieving. Should you ever need soldiers, Ostwick will deliver. I’ll convince my father and the other Lords and Ladies to support you, one way or another,” he cracked his knuckles for emphasis, “I’ll also arrange a ship to ferry you across the Waking Sea to Highever, I take it your people can get you home from there?”

Julien was glad this turned out so well, better than he’s hoped. He got up and gave his brother a big hug.

“Make sure you send a raven to Skyhold and tell them to expect us. And make sure you look after everyone for me, ok Butterball?”

"Whatever Jules, you really need a bath, you’re filthy!"

Aphel stood to clasp Andre’s hand and shook it firmly to accept his offer of aid.

"And sorry again about the mud." she said, rubbing Julien’s hair of now drying dust and clay.

The red head fell to the floor with a painful gasp and a deep glow erupted from his hand.

“What’s going on?! What’s wrong with him?!”

Julien thought he heard his brother cry out but the pain in his hand took away all semblance of attention. It was like nothing he had felt before, it was even worse than when he’d first received the mark.

“A-Aphel, it’s like b-before we need to-” was all he managed to choke out between the varying waves of pain.

He began to panic and he threw his free arm forward and grabbed onto her leg. Perhaps it was selfish of him to do so, she was so close to home now, but he didn’t want to be alone. He hoped she explained at least a little of what was going on to Andre before the world went black once more.

The pull was shocking, like a rug being removed from beneath her feet, the only comfort being a tight grip on her leg which she surely hoped meant Julien was still with her and they hadn’t become separated from each other as well as reality.

This time she did not dream. Aphel forced herself with all her might to focus her awareness, her eyes shut tight with her arms wrapped around herself and in the moments between the veil, a voice reached her ears.

 

"A..el"

 

Solas, Solas is that you?

 

"Aphel! … to me! Ap…c…hear m… …oncen…rate on y… hand! F..cus!"

 

Solas please, I don’t know what to do…

 

"It’s… ay… Don.. …e ..fraid…H…ld on to Jul…n Do not s…per…te"

 

Aphel released a long slow breathe and allowed her eyes to slide open. The murky atmosphere surrounding them had no temperature and no scent and even her body felt distorted and disconnected.

A slow current drew them along and Aphel reached down to hold onto her friend, relaxing and allowing her mind to guide them, putting her faith in Solas and her own strange ability to survive impossible circumstances.

Julien’s hand calmed down. It was less painful now and more… tingly. He felt strange, as if he were floating in nothingness or he lost his ability to feel or smell anything. Feeling the elf hold onto him brought him some comfort but not a lot. Who knows where they were now.

He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. He tried again, louder this time but still nothing, it felt like screaming into a vacuum.

Eventually he gave up, adding his ability to neither hear nor speak to that list of lost senses, so he allowed his body relax against Aphel, simply glad he wasn’t alone in this. Even if he couldn’t tell her directly, he hoped she knew how grateful he was for her company. 

Aphel’s mark, It hurt. The anchor began to spark ice cold shards, but the cool magic was almost familiar, like a sea breeze or a slow draft on a warm day which made her relax despite the pain.

The rushing came faster, harder and with a green flash she felt her and Julien being dumped ungracefully into a pond.

Aphel quickly jumped up to avoid drowning the red-head and looked about to see what appeared to be a version of the chantry garden back at skyhold, but something was amiss, certainly something besides the sudden appearance of two people in a pond which had the various passers-by stopping in their tracks to stare and point.

The sudden splash into cold water definitely woke Julien up. Letting out a high-pitch screech, he sat upright and desperately tried to get the water out of his eyes, nose, and ears. It was futile though, while most of the mud had come off his head in the initial dip, some of the undried stuff became watered down and began running down his face.

Even though he was temporarily blinded he knew there were a lot of people around them, he could hear them gasping and whispering not too far away. Great. Fantastic even. He hoped they hadn’t returned to his world at this point – the shame of looking so dishevelled in front of everyone would be with him for months.

“A-Aphel, I don’t suppose you would have a dry handkerchief I could borrow? My eyes are stinging,” he whined quietly so the others wouldn’t hear.

"I don’t have a dry anything anymore." Aphel replied and hefted him up by his shoulder.

"Inquisitor!" a child shouted and Aphel instinctively turned to see a bouncing braid run past her to tug on Julien’s waistcoat and thrust a white cloth to his face.

"Ninette! Don’t pester the herald! He’s obviously busy!" a slightly older boy followed after the other.

Swallowing his pride, Julien grabbed the cloth and wiped the mud from his face. At least he could see now, he supposed. Looking down at the little girl he gave her a smile.

“Thank you very much, Ninette was it? You’ve saved me from going blind! Is there anything I can do for you?” he said to her in a soft, kid-friendly voice as he leaned down to her level.

Ninette beamed. She smiled so hard, Julien was pretty sure her cheeks would begin to ache soon. She held out her arms and motioned for a hug which he happily gave her.

“Ninette! You’re going to get your clothes all wet! We have to go home now, leave the Herald to his business!” The boy called out to her.

Julien let her go and handed her back her cloth, apologizing for its muddied state. Ninette had a look of complete awe on her face as the boy lead her away in the direction of the stables.

“So, I guess I’m back home then?” Julien said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

For some reason, Aphel couldn’t help but smile and lifted her hand to shove the man’s shoulder.

"You are the golden halla of the heard my friend. You might be nervous but you have a natural talent for making people follow you."

The elf knocked the water from her ears and looked around them. “This garden is very strange. I’m sure those bushes are meant to be further back. And that tree isn’t right, too small. Actually, you wouldn’t mind if I just… er, nevermind. I wonder if my Solas if here. I’m sure I heard his voice.”

Julien blushed. Genuine compliments like that were hard to come by.

“Golden Halla? I thought Hallas only came in white?” He said, hoping to draw the attention away from himself.

He looked around the garden. It definitely was his. He never thought he’d been so happy to see that ugly Fallow Mire Blood Lotus he was trying to grow out. Well, he supposed he should change the trying part to actually grown. It was finally in bloom, meaning they he’d been away for at least 3-4 days.

“Shit, we definitely should get to the library tower. I have a feeling time has passed quicker here,” he said, motioning for her to follow him into the keep.

The smile still lingered as the two of them made their way hurriedly through the long pathways and crowded halls and up the circular steps to a library which made Aphel realize how desperately she ached to go the other way into Solas’ study below them.

How many times had she sneaked in there just to watch him move back and forth from one tome to another or lay sleeping for hours in the middle of the day?

"What is it Julien?" Aphel asked his back as the man stopped suddenly in front of her.

Julien knew he was being selfish but he just had to see him. He would help Aphel search for Solas soon but this took priority. She’d only had Solas missing for a day, Julien had apparently been missing for 4. Dorian was going to kill him if that was true.

As he ascended the stairs his heart hammered harder with each step he took until they finally reached the top. He walked slowly over to Dorian’s little nook and stood there completely frozen. The man was reading, so completely engrossed he didn’t even notice him standing there. Julien admired him for a second, taking note of how his hair and skin glowed in the sunlight. He was too perfect.

“Hey,” Julien choked out quietly.

Dorian looked up from his book and nearly dropped it. Standing up quickly, the Tevene crossed the distance between them quickly and pulled Julien in for a kiss that lasted until they both ran out of air.

“Where have you been?” Dorian hissed at him, hitting him gently with the book.

All Aphel could do was blush and scratch the dried blood from the etchings her gauntlet. She really had to have it scrubbed.

Dorian and Julien were so… effortless; the slight brush of fingertips on Dorian’s shoulder and the hand that combed through Julien’s hair, they moved together like flowing reeds and even their chatting and teasing was calm and playful in its fevered need to know _what happened I was worried_ and _I’m sorry you know I’d never meant to make you fret_.

When Dorian looked at the rogue and smiled his eyes glimmered with desire and Aphel felt terribly sorry that her Dorian couldn’t know the half of it.

Julien smiled sheepishly.

“I-it’s a long story. I’m afraid I may have… jumped realities? Ala Alexius’ time magic? Look, you know I’m not good with explaining all that… magic stuff. Basically, I went to another world where my friend here,” he stepped to the side and gestured to Aphel, “was the one who survived the Conclave instead of me and became Inquisitor. Her Solas and I switched places. I don’t suppose you happen to know if Egg is floating around here somewhere? Either one will do really.”

Dorian seemed to have absorbed all of the information well enough. He patted Julien’s arm affectionately before turning to Aphel and smiling.

“Pleasure to meet you, my dear. I must say this is just fascinating. I’ll have to ask you how you managed to pull it off over some hot tea sometime. I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a disadvantage however. You must know me, I mean how you could not? But Julien here failed to mention your name?”

Making an effort not to speak too informally to the man who would be her close friend, Aphel bowed. “Avanna Dorian, My name is Aphel. I apologise for taking this one away from you.”

He inspected her with a quirked eyebrow and she found herself smiling wildly once again.

"Can I ask what has happened while we were gone? Has Solas spoken to you?"

Dorian looked at both of them and motioned for them to follow him. He led the two of them up to Julien’s room where he gestured for them to sit on the couch. Julien glanced around the room. It was completely spotless, save for the mussed blankets on one side of the bed. Clearly someone, he glanced at Dorian and raised an eyebrow, had been staying in here while he was gone.

Clearing his throat, Dorian went on to answer Aphel’s question, “I thought it would be awkward talking about this within earshot. After your little spat with Fiona, Julien, we thought you’d up and left us. They sent Bull, Varric and Cassandra out to find you but they came back empty handed, obviously. Fiona is completely distraught, as you might imagine. A lot of people around here blamed her for your disappearance you know.” He paused for a moment to pour himself a glass of wine from Julien’s desk.

Aphel jumped to her feet and held her hand to her mouth. “You had an argument with Fiona? I hope you didn’t try to fight her! She was a grey warden!”

To her, Fiona had been almost like a hahren and she couldn’t imagine disrespecting her in any way.

Both Julien and Dorian looked at her quizzically and Aphel sat back down, a little embaressed.

Julien waved his hand dismissively.

“No, no it wasn’t like that. I was asking her about Gwyneth, my sister,” he felt a lump forming in this throat at the thought of her. He paused for a moment to compose himself.

“She was part of the Ostwick Circle when the rebellion started. I assumed she joined the rebellion because the Templars never informed us of any death. I thought I saw her at the conclave before the explosion so I simply asked Fiona if she could confirm her presence and she said she couldn’t. I got a little… heated and I left to be by myself for a bit for a while and you know the rest.”

Dorian placed a hand on Julien’s shoulder and squeezed it. The gesture was comforting but Julien still felt a little upset. He needed to get back to the present.

"Now that you mention him, Solas did start acting rather odd. He was asking about where we kept specific books and such, which is weird because he’s the one that sorted them. That must have been your Solas, I think” Dorian hummed.

Aphel returned her attention to the mage “Do you know where he is?”

“I do, he went into the catacombs not too long ago, maybe an hour? He’s been going down there a lot past couple of days.”

It was good to hear, but Aphel was still on edge. Solas was a wary man, and could be a touch obsessive. If he’d been down there for a few days… She hoped he hadn’t been neglecting himself.

"That… is good to hear." she finally commented, nibbling on her lip.  "Do you think he’s… alright?"

Aphel could compare Solas to a night bird, like the black lyre or a giant owl, sitting high in the tree and watching all the small mammals chase each other while at the same time the stars glint in their eyes so you could never really know where they were looking. The bald made had saved her life, shown her how to control the power thrust upon her, and helped her learn more about the fade and history and magic than she'd ever dreamed to know. Together they dreamed and explored and it made Aphel wonder how she'd ever been so blind. He was only a single man, not a Dalish, not a city elf, some wild force like an icy wind reaching into her bones.

Solas was a watcher, and when he spied a curiosity, there would be no stopping his violently inquisitive mind. Nor would he lose sight of something he became attached to.

“He looked perfectly fine this morning. How about the two of you go check on him? I’m sure he’ll want to know you’ve arrived at any rate,” Dorian said, sipping the wine.

“You don’t want to come with us?” Julien whined, grabbing a hold of Dorian’s free hand, “I just got back and-” Dorian cut him off with a quick peck on the lips.

“Not a chance. I’m not going down there in the dust. And besides, someone needs to run you a bath. I’m afraid you smell worse than Blackwall, my dear. Which reminds me. The two of you are still completely soaked! I’ll have to remedy that.”

Dorian waved a hand and a warm breeze blew over the two Inquisitors, drying them instantly.

“There! Now off you go,” Dorian said as he shooed them out of the room.


	5. Trying not to kill your friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrivals  
> Part 5/14

"That mage is the fairy-godmother I swear." Aphel laughed as she casually ran to the catacombs beside Julien. "I am quite sad to be leaving friend, you must know I shall miss you greatly."

The excitement and trauma was wearing off and though there were so many things she wanted to say and do, she knew it would be against the creators to meddle in their territory for too long.

Julien gave her a bitter-sweet smile. As terrifying and trying as this whole ordeal had been, he considered Aphel to be a dear friend. The thought of never being able to talk to or see her again deeply saddened him. He knew it was foolish to even think so but he hoped there would be a way to stay in contact with her. That was an issue for later on, however. There were more pressing things to focus on. Like where the heck was Solas?

The archway to the lower levels was ornately carved and from her research she felt she could almost make out the ancient elven rune-script as they passed below it into a hall lined with various caskets of wines, rums, and petrified cheeses so dusty and old and forgotten that even the spiders refused to make their homes this deep underground.

When they entered the underground hall Julien nearly gagged on the air.

“Andraste’s flaming buttocks! I mean good cheese is supposed to stink _bad_ but,” he finished his sentence with a fake gagging sound. “This place is so massive, where do we even begin to look for him? Or them, I guess.”

Aphel squatted and began removing her shoes and gauntlets and again rested Ophelia by her side.

“This is where it gets fun.” She winked at him in the glow of the sooty torch light and rested her head against the wall, closing her eyes.

Julien raised an eyebrow. Fun? Taking off your gloves and boots then putting your head to a filthy wall was her idea of fun? He decided he didn’t understand elves at all. He shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. What was he supposed to do while she was doing this?

"Julien, I’m going to search the veil for Solas’ magic. He taught me to do this while we were traveling across the Frostbacks when I asked how he could sense elven relics. I haven’t really gotten the hang of it but I think I can recognise his presence if we are close enough. I can’t be completely awake while I do this so try to be quiet and don’t let anything touch me.”

Aphel concentrated on her breathing for a few moments and relaxed her body until she began to feel the sleep deprivation of the past few days catch up on her. Though it was exhausting, at least it would help her now and she quickly fell into resonance with the fade.

Solas had taught her how every being was connected to the fade through the veil in the same way the wind blows against your skin and can make you cool or warm. Mages were those with a strong enough connection to channel that power into mana to power magic.

She let out a long sigh and felt the soft feather light touch of the threads of the veil peel against her spirit.

She looked like she went to sleep. Julien would have laughed if he wasn’t sworn to silence. He hoped she actually was doing something and not just napping.

Suppressing a sigh, he gently lifted the bow of his back, being careful as to not twang the bowstring. Saying stuff like don’t let anything touch me usually meant the universe would throw walking corpses or spiders at them just to be annoying. Lucky for her, stealth was one of his things. He’d ensure nothing got near her.

Aphel heard the soft whispers of spirits edging around here awareness as light as dust bunnies and with every breathe she concentrated on extending the tendrils of her spirit like fine silk hairs.

After what only felt like minutes, a shard of magic connected with her and Aphel recognised it whole-heartedly, moving to draw herself closer. But it seemed as though she was pushing through glass. Suddenly the mage’s spirit retreated, as though stung by a nettle and she could feel the power curling away from her.

Further out there was another, so similar but vastly foreign and much more warded against her as though feeling threatened. So unlike him.

Twirling an arrow in his hand as he leaned against a table, Julien hummed quietly to himself. He felt the beginnings of boredom creeping slowly up on him. He almost wished something would jump out at them – just so he’d have something to do. But the hall remained dead quiet. Other than the noises he was making himself, the only the sound he could hear was her breathing.

He ceased his humming and listened. It was a little too quiet. Should they not be able to hear the distant tapping of feet on the stone slabs above? Water dripping? The castle above them settling? Do castles even settle? Or was that just houses? Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure how deep they’d gone. Perhaps the silence was making him paranoid.

She pushed forward, moving her spirit towards the feeling of recognition, but every time it felt within her reach the icy magic drew back, hiding, running.

_Wait, It’s me, where are you._

It was hard to know if she could even speak here, she hadn’t done it consciously before, only when Solas had drawn her into it and had her believing it was reality. It was a dream then… almost like a memory.

Remembering that time gave her an Idea and she let her memories swell to the surface in order to direct her spirit.

The Speed was shocking and when she was stopped suddenly, walking into an icy waterfall of magic that threw her spirit back and made her choke and gasp at its power, there was a voice; less than words but far more meaningful and it hurt and it was pushing and Aphel couldn’t breathe and she couldn’t see or hear or taste and she just so wanted to let it overwhelm her.

Julien was laying down on the table, facing the ceiling he couldn’t really see in the semi-darkness. He threw an arrow up in to the air and caught it on its decent. He threw it up again. And caught it. Up again. And caught it. Up. Caught it. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up Down. Updown. Updown. UpdownupdownupdownupdownUPDOWN.

How long was this going to take?! He didn’t mean to be so impatient but come on. She hadn’t moved an inch in ages. He contemplated waking her but decided against it. She could probably hurt him pretty bad with her crazy iron grip.

_Solas… Julien… wake up, Aphel! Wake UP!_

 

She was sinking. The force had thrown her back but now something solid was preventing her from returning. Was it the other Solas? Was it another mage? Or something else altogether?

No, it wasn’t her elf. The thing was nothing like him. It was demanding and constricting her like the prey of a python. It needed her and it hated her and it would never let her go.

She needed help, she needed Julien

_Julien…_

Aphel pulled back, hard and slowly until her limit was reached, then let go and felt her spirit plummeting again. The break allowed her to send a wave into her hand for only a moment before she was constricted once more.

In a fit of frustration, Julien hurled the arrow up with too much force and it flew off to the side. Temporarily forgetting where he was situated, he tried to scoot to catch it but instead rolled off the table entirely, landing on his right arm with a loud THUD.

“MAKER’S BALLS!” he cried out a little too loudly as he rolled over.

He touched his arm gingerly and pulled away almost instantly. It felt like it was on fire and it stung like hell when he tried to move it. Oh shit oh shit he hoped it wasn’t dislocated. How embarrassing it would be if it was.

There was a wave of green light that emanated from Aphel’s hand. Then the realisation of how loud he’d been hit him.

“Shit, Aphel I’m sorry I- H-hey are you ok?” he said, shuffling over to her, being careful as to not move or touch his sore arm. 

She felt pain, real pain. Her arm stung and ached deeply and the connection with reality jolted the thing dragging her down. She felt it retract slightly, so with her mind focusing on the pain, she drew it towards herself and felt her mind connect with another’s.

_“Julien, is that you? Julien wake me! Wake me now!”_

Whoa. He could hear her inside his head. He didn’t know if that was really cool or really creepy. He reached forward with his good arm and shook her as violently as he could.

“Aphel! Aphel! Wake up! Please, maker wake up!” he cried out to her.

He slapped her face for good measure.

Aphel gasped violently, tear’s sprung to her eyes with the pain in her arm throbbing until she realised it was gone.

"Julien, you - Your arm! Are you alright? What -"

She noticed him cradling the limb tenderly and wanted to help but was cut off with a cough reflex and she brought her hand to her mouth.

"What in Mythal’s name happened to you?"

Shit. He couldn’t let her know he fell off a table. She’d never let him live it down! If he hadn’t panicked so badly he probably could have come up with a decent lie.

“It was a bear. Big black one. Came out of nowhere. I defended you from it using my adrenaline infused strength to wrestle it but it managed to push me over pretty good. It ran off afterwards though. I think it saw the killer rage in my eyes and bolted,” he said a little too fast.

The unimpressed look on her face told him she wasn’t buying what he was selling.

“…I fell off the table,” he sighed as he looked down at the floor in shame.

His complete deflation caused the elf to burst out laughing once again despite the events following them, to which seemed relieved with her reaction though and joined her for a moment of light-heartedness.

When their breathing returned to normal she sighed and looked back up to him who was still wincing slightly from his injury.

"Let me help you with that. I don’t know what to do but i can help you sling it."

She shuffled over to him on her knees and took the belt from her waist to bind the arm close to his chest as he groaned occasionally. After successfully binding his arm up, Julien sat back and shook his head.

“Trust me to do something completely foolish and essentially make myself useless. Here’s hoping there aren’t any actual bears down here. You’re gonna be on your own if a fight breaks out,” he said sheepishly.

Actually looking at her properly now, he realized she looked quite shaken. She was trembling slightly and her face had a worried look to it.

“What happened in there?” he asked, poking her head gently with his good hand.

"It’s… Hard to explain." Aphel began and lowered her head to rest in her hands. "But you saved me, that’s for sure. Something is very wrong. I could sense two Solas’, mine and yours. But there was something else as well. It was… I…"

She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her palms and tried to understand exactly _what_ and _how_ and _why did he push me away_?

"I felt them, they are definitely near us, close enough, I have a feeling it is near water. Perhaps an underground lake or river running between the mountains. I think if we follow these paths we will come to it soon enough."

Julien gave her a sympathetic look. Although he had trouble understanding magic and the veil at the best of times, he understood well enough how she was upset by this. He leaned forward and gave her an awkward one-armed-side-hug.

“This place is so quiet, I think we’ll be able to hear the water before long, come let’s go find them,” he said, releasing her and standing up awkwardly.

He picked up his bow and the traitorous arrow and returned them to their original positions on his back and in the quiver. As useless as they were to him now, he didn’t want to feel completely defenceless.

With her boots still tied to her waist and her fingers tensing around Ophelia’s haft as they walked the too silent steps though the underground path, Aphel kept her free hand to Julien’s shoulder to make sure they wouldn’t separate in the steeped black caverns.

She wouldn’t try to reach out again so she focused on her instincts and senses and Julien’s skilful hearing and gradually they moved closer to the sound of rushing water.

"They must be around here, I’m certain.”

The two of them slowly moved forward towards the sound, being careful where they trod lest they injure themselves further. Eventually they came to a fork in the tunnel. Of course there was a fork. Why wouldn’t there be?

The roaring of the rushing water was echoing throughout the entire place made it difficult to hear anything. Julien thought about his days hunting Hinds outside Ostwick. Back then he’d learned how to listen for even the slightest rustling sound or the tiniest twig snapping. After all, sneaking up on an already skittish animal was no easy feat.

He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing so he could barely even hear himself. He stood there for what felt like the longest time just listening. With great effort, he heard a faint shuffling of two pairs of feet coming down the left tunnel.

“This way,” he said, taking the lead slightly.

Moving ahead, they began to see a rippling reflection on the cavern ceiling and the shine of moisture on the walls lit up but the bio-luminescence of many deposits of deep mushrooms which gave off a clean, earthy smell.

Then, over the crowding rush of the underground river, Aphel heard a shout and a chill ran down her spine, warning her away from danger.

"It’s ahead. Whatever it was, I think it’s ahead."

Julien lead them with solid steps and Aphel tried to calm herself from a slowly rising panic.

“This ISN’T IT! YOU WON’T DO THIS! I KNOW YOU WON’T”

Aphel groaned at the voice, but she couldn’t tell which Solas it came from just yet.

To say the sudden yelling alarmed Julien would be an understatement. He nearly jumped out of his skin. He let out a startled, “Holy Shit!” and threw his hand over his mouth in a vain attempt to silence himself.

Thankfully it was less of a startled yell and more of a startled hiss. He hoped he hadn’t given away their position. Sneaking back the way they came was still an option, right? He turned to Aphel and could practically feel the anxiety radiating off her. It did not bring him any comfort. 

Finally lowering the hand that held her weapon, Aphel walked through the natural stone arch, taking a last look to Julien to see his bold green eyes reassuring her.

The river was certainly as large as it sounded and ran surging into the gaping mouth of a pitch-black waterfall.

Veilfire burned brightly throughout the room and lit up the figures of two identical elves. One stood with his back to them, staff raised. The other Solas, her Solas held himself tightly as he paced back and forth. Aphel recognised his orange striped long vest-coat that swayed with his urgent steps.

"It’s too late! I couldn’t stop it, It was waiting for her!”

"Corypheus was manipulating it! Don’t do this! I won’t allow it."

Between them was a summoning circle, already glowing with power as the thing within it, what looked like a pale fox, only much much larger, writhed and howled, occasionally snapping at Solas but unable to reach him.

Aphel dropped her greatsword which sent a metallic crash vibrating off the distance walls and ran forward. Her Solas turned his head, stunned by the sight of her and she felt herself flood with joy.

But before she could take even a few steps, a white hot shard of pain struck her chest and the other Solas who’d been too startled by her to comprehend, lowered his staff too late as the tendrils of his magic evaporated from it.

Julien watched the whole thing from the archway. Time seemed to move in slow motion to him in that moment. He dashed forward to awkwardly catch her with one arm as she fell. The combination of her weight (he assumed it was mostly her armour because no way she weighed that heavy) and his weakness from using his less dominant arm caused the two of them to still fall, albeit not as quickly. More of an awkward tumble really.

“Shit, shit, shit! Aphel? Aphel, on a scale of one to ten, how bad does it hurt?” he blurted out in a panic.

He knew how to deal with animal bites, arrows and sword wounds but not magic. He looked up at the two Solas’, one of which looked completely distraught.

“Solas! Whichever! Help her!” he cried out, deeply concerned for his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have just written sooo much, it is mostly the editing that takes up time.  
> I hope you please leave a comment, a review and a kudos! It would mean very much to us!  
> ~Kim and Kill


	6. Quit hitting yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrivals  
> Part 6/14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note for this chapter: It is written in the point of view of both Julien's and Aphel's Solas. We are in Julien's world currently and the asterix will be used for clarity; * for Aphel's and ** for Julien's.
> 
> I hope it isn't too confusing, please leave a note if there is some trouble and I will try my best to fix it.  
> ~Kim and Kill

A few hours ago…

“This one, here, do you see? It speaks of the method of retraction more specifically.” *Solas jumped up with the heavy book open in his arms and jogged over to his counterpart from this new world.

When he’d first landed here, it was shocking to say the least, but despite his worry he had yearned to learn all he could. Which turned out to be quite less than he’d hoped, seeing as how their worlds were practically identical despite minor alterations.

Instead of the conscientious warrior elf he’d come to know, a human had taken her place and had been fighting in her place. Of course there must have been more, but even meeting the other version of himself made him wonder if the conclave had been a specific event causing separate realities to develop or if there were infinite realities all existing at once.

"The first time we tried using my inquisitor’s anchor, I believe if you can connect to your own, the effect may make it work."

**Solas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. And interesting theory.

“I see, using this method we can force him to return to whence he came, rather than pulling another in. Yes, I believe this will have a higher chance of being successful,” he said, quickly skimming over the other’s textbook.

It had been a few days already but he still hadn’t grown accustomed to looking up and seeing himself stand in front of him. It was… disconcerting. Technically speaking they were the same person however there were subtle differences that made it just that little bit uncomfortable. They had the same sharp grey eyes, the same slightly clefted chin, even the same bald head... but were their ears a little higher? He assumed it was partially himself subconsciously trying to create a distinction between the two of them and partially the difference in experience. Obviously the important variable here was their Inquisitors.

**Solas considered Julien to be a dear friend and had noticed a certain feeling of loneliness that came with his absence. His counterpart, however, seemed to be particularly eager to see his Inquisitor again. Curious.

*The mage sighed “I am thankful to you, and I would say more but it feels a little self-serving” he laughed “please, let us begin immediately. I’ll have to get the book on power conducting runes first and we’ll set up the circle.”

The other **Solas nodded to him and they separated, one heading into the catacombs and the other upstairs to the main library.

After searching for almost ten minutes *he defeatedly realised this other version of himself frustratingly had a different format of organisation and he wandered over to Dorian for help. Tapping the Tevene of the shoulder to get his attention.

"Dorian, do you know where the book on conducting runes is? I can’t seem to locate it."

Dorian quirked an eyebrow at the elf’s odd question. Shouldn’t he know? Or was he simply trying to vex him?

“Did you hit your heard or something? Perhaps you haven’t been sleeping well? You sorted those shelves yourself,” he sighed at the elf’s vacant expression, “Third bookshelf on your left, three rows down from the top.”

Meanwhile, the other **Solas wandered back to their spot from before. It was deep enough in the bowels of the earth that no one ever wandered down here for fear of becoming lost. Luckily, exploring such lost places was somewhat of a speciality of his so he had no such concern. This space was perfect. No one would disturb the delicate work they were doing here and there was practically no risk of someone running into the both of them at the same time. That would be a very difficult situation to talk his way out of 

It took them another hour to finally complete the diagram and go over the mechanics in case they failed, but *Solas was certain it would have taken twice as long had he been alone.

"Alright. Please, begin." He motioned to his twin who raised his staff.

Raising his own, the mana converged between them, running through the circuit and working into a positive feedback cycle to connect with the anchor.

*Solas felt the veil spasming and reached out to calm it.

"Reflect the power from that point!" He yelled over the rush of water and the vibrating air around them. "I can feel something pushing back!"

Hope bloomed and *Solas arched his spirit in earnest, “Yes! We have them! Both of them!”

It was success, he thought, until another more violent, thrashing force nudged them away.

Both of them? This was good **Solas thought. As fascinating as this whole situation was, he would be relieved for it to be over and things to return to normal.

The ritual was going according to plan and it should have worked perfectly. Outside forces, however, seemed to have disrupted their intentions. That always seemed to be the way these things went.

**Solas’ power strained against whatever was trying to force its will upon them. He felt himself slip a little, but corrected himself. The two of them were going to turn up somewhere close but not here where they intended.

“How do you suggest we deal with this?” he shouted to himself.

The thing thrashed again and sweat from the exertion glimmered on their brows.

"One of us must throw it off" *Solas suggested. For whatever reason, a spirit was actively trying to subvert their ritual, it was highly suspect and unexpected to say the least.

"Shall you or shall I? we must decide quickly or we will lose them again."

This plan would either work splendidly or fail miserably.

“It is your idea, you do it,” **Solas said, the strain making him become maybe a little irritable.

This spirit seemed to be a tenacious one – it would either be overpowered suddenly or it would struggle against them further. Regardless, *he braced himself for what he knew was going to be either a sudden loss or increase of pressure.

"Very well, I’ll be releasing those vectors as I do it."

*Solas focused on the spirit assaulting them, and dropped his hold on the teleportation field. The release of pressure lifted him before his the tendrils of his spirit dropped and snapped around its neck.

_"Leave us, we are no threat to you spirit, why do you do this?"_

The reply came as a growl and a whine and a snapping of energy. _“Please, do not do this.”_

Through the veil *he saw a great white beast opening its jaws and crashed them down, tearing apart the teleportation ritual. He heard the other **Solas grunt and yell and the magic crashed back to their bodies just as quickly and swirled around them for a few moments before evaporating.

**Solas groaned as he assessed the damage to himself. Nothing felt broken but all of his nerve endings were buzzing quite unpleasantly. Even though he had braced for it, the sudden rush of energy surprised him. It appeared he was experiencing a slight magical overload. Keeping still until his nerves settled seemed to be the best course of action for the moment.

"Did it fail? What happened?!"

Still, he felt as though they had accomplished what they set out to do. They had had a hold on both the Inquisitors before this spirit hindered them. Only time would tell, he supposed.

“What do you think it meant by ‘Please, do not do this’?” **Solas then inquired, trying to keep his jaw movements as small as possible. The buzzing had reduced significantly but he didn’t want to strain himself further.

"I fear it may have… It may be under the control of a powerful mage. Or rather Magister. I sensed fear as well." *Solas replied as he moved to sit and watched the river bubble and swirl around the jagged stones protruding above the surface. "Any way, we need to rest before we can search for them."

They would try again, he would try again. And keep trying until he could return to her side. He wouldn’t allow any other outcome.

**Solas thought resting sounded like a wonderful idea. Laying here on his back, he realised how exhausted he actually was. The past few days had been the two of them taking turns grabbing books from the library and bringing them down here for study. This much crammed into just a few days was a little bewildering.

After a time, the buzzing had ceased completely and so he felt it was fine for him to move about. He contemplated joining his counterpart by the river but decided against it. He seemed to be deep in thought. Best to leave himself be for now. Instead he went to look at the placement of the runes to see if any had shifted at all.

While watching the water, *Solas decided to ask the other about the Human Inquisitor of this world.

"What is the inquisitor like here, I am interested in what your opinion of him his. You certainly hadn’t left either like we originally planned. Unless you had thought differently?"

When he initially joined the small band known as the inquisition, contacting the seeker Pentaghast and offering his knowledge to heal the terrible wound in the veil, it was not certain whether he would be able to handle the company for any extended period of time let alone to accomplish his goal.

**Solas contemplated the question.

“He is very… unique. Cassandra told me he came from a very devout family so I had assumed he would have the same views on apostates and magic as any Andrastian would. He… surprised me however,” he said thoughtfully.

“He has a very open mind. Though he barely has the capacity to understand what I say about the fade, he does seem genuinely awed by it. He seems to respect my knowledge and expertise. Any time there’s an issue involving spirits he seeks my council before making a decision. Compassion for beings he can barely comprehend is truly a quality I did not expect to find in anyone, let alone him. I never thought I’d find a true friend in a human, but I have,” he concluded. “What about your Inquisitor? How did your world react to having an Elf lead such an organization?”

*Solas chuckled to himself, remembering the stunned and red faces of many Fereldan refugees when they arrived at the gates back at Haven to be told their saviour was a Dalish woman.

"When I joined, I wanted to fix the damage. But as you know, I could not accomplish it with any means. Then she appeared, and it changed, she did what I, what no one else could. I had reservations about a Dales-woman, their insularity never suited me, but as we spoke I saw that she knew more of the world than I gave her credit for.

"She would look at me and ask me for every piece of memory I had we learnt things from each other. Certainly she is no mage, but perhaps that is for the best. A perspective I could never have. She… has given this all to me and never asked for-"

*Solas went quiet when he suddenly felt a shiver reach out to him. Was it that he was speaking of her? Drawing on his memories of Aphel?

The touch was faint and warm and he could almost feel her breath on his neck.

"They’re close, do you feel them?"

**Solas was surprised at his counterpart’s feelings on this woman. She must truly be remarkable if he was as taken with her as he seemed. He was truly interested in meeting her, to see what could have been.

Closing his eyes, he partially opened himself to the fade. He was cautious about letting her sense him if indeed she was there, he didn’t want to interfere with his twin’s dealings, nor confuse her. Further out he felt someone. He was sure it must be her but of course she felt completely foreign to him

Gingerly pushing himself up, the tension in his shoulders easing, *Solas opened his mana to reach back to Aphel. His smile fell when he realised the spirit was still there, its fangs waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

*Solas cursed loudly and impulsively surged, shoving Aphel’s spirit to have her return to herself.

In that moment the thing attacked and *Solas’ eyes widened with agony at the shard of pain clashing through his exposed meridians and he withdrew them from the fade as one would their hand from a flame.

"It’s after them, After HER! I can’t STOP It! we… we have to draw it away! Summon it? It’s KILLING her!”

*Solas shut his eyes tightly. He promised his friends he would never summon a spirit, never force as living being under his own will. For all he knew it was being corrupted, manipulated. But what other choice did he have?

**Solas balked. Summon it?! Surely this other him was joking! There is no way he would allow it.

“We are not summoning it! There must be another way!” he snapped at himself.

He was just as terrified of losing the Inquisitors as he was but this ‘twin’ of his was thinking irrationally. He was both in awe and disgusted that he would even suggest such a thing.

“There is no need for us to stoop to such lows! Remember our promises, assuming you even made them!”

"You don’t understand" *Solas moaned and picked up his fallen staff. "You know I wouldn’t do this if I believed there was another way, there is NO OTHER option."

He rushed back to the diagram they had used for the teleportation and hastily scribbled in the correct lines and runes, his chest thumped desperately as he wracked his brain for all his knowledge, all the while sensing the battle between Aphel and the spirit in the periphery of his senses.

**Solas groaned at his other self’s stubbornness. For once in his life he was at a loss on which course of action to take. Does he betray every fibre of his being and help summon this spirit? Should he take no part? Perhaps he could actively fight against what the other Solas was doing? This was quite the conundrum.

“This feels wrong,” **he said, holding his staff firmly, ready in case anything should go awry.

Hands still shaking, *Solas stood and turned to reply; “If I can’t save her, then none of this will matter.”

And as he voiced it, he knew it was true.

Aphel was his one, his heart. They weren’t ostentatious, they were barley physical and even rarer sexual. It was as love that needed no physical reassurance. They completed each other without any need to possess or control and it was like a song for his soul, humming and calming and warm and he knew that if that song were to end, he would never hear another like it.

He had a point. Losing either Inquisitors would mean both worlds ending entirely and his friends would be in no small measure of peril as well. That didn’t make this right but **Solas supposed it was necessary. It also didn’t mean he had to like it.

“This is…,” **he sighed, “Do what you wish, I won’t to be a part of it however”

*Solas was ready. It was now or never so with no hesitation he formed his mana, spreading out tendrils roughly and allowing the circle to shape them. They surged wildly when they reacted to the spirit and tightly chained it.

She was still there with it, her presence almost a whisper now and *Solas let out a rough grunt of excursion and tightened his grip.

Then suddenly, she vanished. The spirit was flung at speed and pulled into his barrier, trapping it.

*Solas screamed and fell to his knees. Gone, she was gone.

**Solas felt the scream was a little unnecessary. Surely he had done more strenuous things in his past. Even the ritual they did before was more tiring than a simple summoning.

“Are you pleased now? I assume since this spirit is here she was successfully saved then?”

**He looked at the spirit sympathetically. It thrashed about violently in its new cage, try to snap at the both of them and obviously failing. No doubt it was malicious but he wondered if it was of its own volition? Or was its only crime being compelled to do the evil of whomever bound it?

"WHY?" *Solas yelled at the spirit, feeling a tearing visceral pain he had never wanted to feel again. It was hard to breathe.

The spirit whined at its captivity, “there is no defying the red one, only suffering and death. We are must destroy the one with the key.”

*Solas shot a spray of black ice into its manifested body. “I WILL GIVE YOU SUFFERING!”

Summoning a spirit is one thing, but outright attacking it?

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” **Solas yelled to the other one.

He rose his staff, preparing to throw up a barrier to protect the spirit if necessary. Something must have gone terribly wrong to incite such a strong response. It must be Aphel. Perhaps he was too late to save her? He felt sick. No matter how terrible this is, the spirit is not at fault, if anything they should be questioning it for more information.

The reaction from the other almost had *Solas return to his senses. He loosed the white-knuckled grip on his staff and lowered his head to the stone beneath his knees.

"I failed, I failed" *he chanted "how could I have led her to this, we knew it was dangerous, Dorian warned us, Vivienne scolded us. Even Blackwall disapproved. How could I have been so wrong? I thought they didn’t understand, I wanted to be useful, it was exciting. I’m so so sorry ma vhenan.”

**Solas swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. This other him seemed to care a great deal more about his Inquisitor than he originally assumed. He didn’t know what to say.

“I… I am deeply sorry for you loss. By the sounds of it she was a remarkable woman. I am sure she will be missed dearly. Perhaps sterner words to it will yield better results than simply thrashing it. You mustn’t let your anger cloud your judgement, there is more that we can learn from it yet,”

"I cannot, I… need a moment."

*Solas stood and wandered unsteadily, turning back towards the tumultuous black waters of the river. His mind reeled, both empty and bursting with furious thoughts that swirled. He wondered if he could ever calm it again.

Letting the other be for the moment, **Solas turned to the spirit behind the barrier. It was still thrashing about violently against its confines. It must be a particularly strong willed one, most would have given up by now.

“Your purpose has been fulfilled then? You killed the Inquisitor? Are you satisfied or perhaps regretful of your actions? It is very important we know your intentions – were they your own or were they forced upon you?” **he asked it in a stern voice.

"You foolish creatures, there is no regret, there is no satisfaction, it is their will. It binds us.”

So it _was_ Corypheus. He doubted the spirit even had its own individuality anymore. It was just a slave now. Better off to die, *Solas thought.

“I see… that is very unfortunate,” **Solas said quietly to it.

To be perfectly honest, its blind loyalty to Corypheus was deeply unsettling. If he had more spirits like this at his command, ones that don’t require any sort of compensation for their services, well that was very worrisome. He needed to get as much information as possible if Julien had any chance for survival.

“Are there more of you out there? Or were you the only one sent after her?”

"More, there will be more. Fight us, fight, and you may prevail."

Suddenly it shrieked, its form rippling as though something were damaging it’s very existence.

“The Inquisitor must die, Gods will fall-“

Again it shrieked and curled inwards, then began hissing and violently snapping at the two mages.

"Corypheus is monitoring it, monitoring us!” *Solas turned and jumped to his feet “We must destroy it! NOW.”

**Solas disagreed. It looked more like it were deteriorating, against its own will mind you.

“No! I believe Corypheus is attempting to destroy it! Perhaps it has given us too much information?” **Solas yelled back at his counterpart. He extended an arm toward him, motioning for him to stop, however it seemed futile. The other Solas seemed determined to kill it. “If Corypheus wants it destroyed, deny him his wish!”

But the other only stepped forward with purpose, raising his staff in preparation for a spell so **Solas began drawing his magic.

“This ISN’T IT! YOU WON’T DO THIS! I KNOW YOU WON’T!”


	7. The father, the son, and the holy shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrivals  
> Part 7/14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again for clarity  
> * refers to Aphel's Solas  
> ** refers to Julien's Solas  
> Thanks for reading!  
> ~Kim and Kill

*Solas’ heart slammed against his ribcage, it burned against his will; the despair. He was going to kill an innocent spirit. He needed justice, judgement, vengeance. But despite his pain, the conflict within him was great and he clutched his sides, pacing in front of the white beast.

*"It’s too late! I couldn’t stop it, It was waiting for her!”

Good. **Solas seemed to have given the other mage enough pause, perhaps it was possible to talk him down now. He still seem largely distressed however, perhaps soft words wouldn’t cut it; so he raised his staff to prove a point.

"Corypheus was manipulating it! Don’t do this! I won’t allow it." **he stated sternly. Perhaps the threat of having to deal with two instead of one would deter him.

A sudden clanging of metal hitting the ground sounded off behind them. It must be another spirit or another of Corypheus’ agents sent to either attack them or finish off their prisoner. By the time his thoughts ended, **Solas had turned to face the intruder and shot out a bolt of spirit energy. Looking at his foe, she had a bewildered look on her face, like she had honestly not been expecting any resistance.

Suddenly another entered the room in a rush to catch the falling elf. Wait. That hair.

“Shit, shit, shit! Aphel!? Aphel, on a scale of one to ten, how bad does it hurt? Solas! Whichever! Help her!”

It appeared he had made a grave mistake.

*Solas watched the human tumble beneath Aphel and felt too shocked to even speak. Whatever the red-head had shouted didn’t even reach his ears, he could barely breathe as he stumbled towards her still form, pushing his twin away to move beside the two huddled on the cold stone floor. He lifted her face slowly and pressed his trembling fingers to her throat to check for a pulse. Then closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers.

Julien found himself shaking. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This isn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Not Aphel! She didn’t deserve this!

“What… what do we do? I-I don’t have any healing potions,” Julien stammered.

He turned to the Solas who was still standing and gave him a scathing look.

“You! I don’t care which one you are, either help undo this or go get someone else for help! We aren’t letting her go!”

**Solas opened his mouth to make an apology but knew it would fall on deaf ears. He hurried off quickly down the halls to go fetch a healer. Hopefully they would focus on Aphel and leave the spirit alone.

*Solas could feel a faint pulsing beneath her mahogany skin but it was shallow, weak, as though her life-force had retreated to preserve itself. His mind was empty of anger and fear now, only the need to preserve and he pressed lightly his palm to her breastbone and formed a barrier around her heart to draw out the insidious seed of magic twisting there.

"I can do only so much." he sighed "the hit was not powerful, but it was precise."

He could already feel the flesh of her pointed ears becoming colder.

Julien felt helpless. He cursed his lack of arcane knowledge. All he could do was support her body and hope that other Solas returned soon. Suddenly he remembered some vital information.

“S-she pulled a regeneration potion out of her breast pocket earlier! Perhaps there is another one? Would that help?”

He moved his free hand out from under her and began patting her down. He didn’t want to invade her privacy any more that necessary so he kept it brief.  When a potion appeared the two men glanced to each other but stayed silent.

Solas levered open her jaw while Julien un-popped the cork and poured the sweet-smelling orange liquid over her tongue.

"Swallow Aphel, you need to do this."  Solas whispered to her and ran his thumb over the golden vallaslin brightening her cheek. "I offered to remove them you know. The markings."

At first, Julien was worried she wouldn’t swallow it. If necessary, he’d rub her throat like he used to do with the sick hunting dogs back home. Solas’ words, however, seemed to do the trick. He quirked an eyebrow at Solas’ statement.

“The tattoos? I’ve heard they’re very important to the Dalish… like they have a special meaning or something? I don’t claim to know a lot about elves but I thought they were a big deal. What reason would she have to remove them?”

It was something he’d seen as misfortune, and so he had not wished to tell her, but when he did, her reaction surprised him.

"She was happy."

Solas chuckled at Julien’s confused expression.

"She said it was important to her to learn more of the history of elves that was lost. She said the past was important, but the present was far more valuable, and that the vallaslin prove that even the darkest of realities can turn to hope and pride and peace. That is something I try not to forget."

Julien smiled and laughed softly.

“That does sound like her.”

He was glad she was the way she was - a lesser person wouldn’t have acted so humbly. If he were in her shoes… well he wasn’t sure how he’d have reacted.

“She’s definitely a the-glass-is-half-full person. Her positivity is… enviable.”

Aphel shivered uncontrollably when fog began to lift from her mind. A searing ache forced her to suddenly start and clutch at her chest, slamming her forehead solidly into someone above her who groaned along with her.

“Aphel! You’re aw-” Julien was cut off as her head collided with his jaw.

He groaned loudly and flung his head back, away from her. First his shoulder and now his jaw? Today was definitely pretty high up on his worst-day-ever list.

Solas’ concern for Aphel became apparent when he rubbed her head gently and asked if she was ok. What about poor, crippled Julien? Would no one weep for him? He must have been pouting because there was a chuckle that came from Solas’ direction, a gesture that Julien did not appreciate nor need right now. An ice pack would have been preferable.

?Mak’rs b’lls tha’ ‘urt!” he cried a little, his jaw now too sore to properly form words.

"Solas, Julien, you’re both alright, I was… I…" Aphel took a moment to remember the past few minutes and then gasped. "It was you! No, not you… er… I’m confused."

She still felt unbearably cold and her teeth chattered loudly.

"You should not move, your heart needs to regain its strength." Solas told them and unbuckled the straps on her armour to lighten the weight on her chest.

"Really Solas, it’s alright, why is it so cold?"

Julien sighed and began undoing the sash around his waist. He was glad she was awake and alive. Really, a sore jaw was a good trade of for his friend’s health. They had come too close then, he would have to have stern words with his Solas about this whole shoot-first-ask-questions-later business.

“You’re lucky I happen to be a gentleman, Aphel,” He said as attempted to he shrug off his coat.

He had forgotten about his sore arm. Groaning while he went, he carefully undid the strap suspending his arm and gently eased it out of the sleeve. Ignoring the pain it had caused, he then helped her into it. He hoped it would be warm enough for her.

“My Solas blasted you with magic, an act he will answer for later on. How are you feeling besides being cold?”

"Erm, confused. Why is there a spirit over there? And is there any food? I’m starving."

Solas reddened and cursed quietly.

"It was the being that attacked you. I summoned it here to get it away from you."

Aphel gave him a worried look “I’m sorry, I was foolish to try to search for you on my own. Julien you need to have someone look at that arm! Should we go back to Dorian?”

Julien smiled, and pointed to one the pockets on his coat.

“There should be a bag of blueberries in there. I always carry some in case of emergencies, such as this, we can get you something more filling upstairs” he said, pausing to look at the caged spirit, “But first we much make a decision regarding our ‘friend’ here. Are we just going to leave it here?”

"Thankyou, but I’m allergic to blueberries. Solas, ma vhenan _my heart_ … you did this… I can’t force you, but you need to release it."

He attempted to stand when searing pain shot up the arm in question. He clutched it gently and winced, letting out a painful hiss. Ok, so Aphel was right. Perhaps his arm really should be looked at, it seemed to be only getting worse.

“Perhaps we could be quick about our decision here?”  

Solas turned to watch the pale creature. "Tel’abelas _I'm not sorry._  It tried to kill you, and it is under the control of Corypheus."

Aphel gave the mage a stern look, as stern as she could manage while her jaw trembled uncontrollably.

"Ma nuvenin" _as you wish._ Solas replied with a sigh of relief and turned to release the creature now motionless and whimpering quietly.

 

"Abelas" _Sorry,_  he spoke and broke the summoning circle with a flick of his staff and the three of them hoped they did the right thing this time.

Julien clenched his jaw a little but not enough to hurt it. He did not like the idea of releasing a spirit of this nature onto his world. He said nothing however, these two knew more about spirits than he did and he trusted their judgement.

“Shall we be off then? I would suggest the two of you spend the night before attempting to return, you both need the rest,” he said, suddenly eager to get back upstairs.

Julien’s words drew Aphel back, she was going to have to leave, a friend she trusted and had grown to build a solid connection with, the thought made her melancholic.

"That sounds relaxing, I hope we can play a game of wicked grace or Cullen’s chess before we depart."

Julien took her hand in with his un-injured one and Solas helped raise her with the other.

"Since when did I become the one needing a guard?" She giggled at the archer and mage.

“Of course, I’m always down for a good game of Wicked Grace. Perhaps I can win some of your coin and buy that cheesecake you owe me,” Julien laughed and gave her a wink, “I’ll arrange it after we’ve eaten and I’ve had a hot bath. I’m sure Dorian has quite a few questions for the two of you, he seemed very interested in your methods.”

He and Solas helped Aphel walk back through the catacombs slowly, allowing her to conserve her energy. The trip its self was uneventful but when they reached the entrance, however, a messenger was waiting for them.

“Ah, Lord Trevelyan, I’m glad you’re here! I’m to deliver a message to you and I was afraid I’d get lost down there. A raven arrived moments go; your Father and Older Sister will be arriving within the hour with a company of soldiers to assist the Inquisition,”

Julien paled and subconsciously tensed up. His father? Within the hour? Well… shit.

"Is your sister as voracious as your brother Andre?" Aphel queried and trundled along with the two of them. Suddenly the question had her pining for her own family, but she diverted her thoughts quickly. Going down that path would only be a mistake.

“She’s a lot more … mellow than Andre. Out of the four of us, she is the most level headed one but I guess that comes with being the eldest….” he said, drifting off at the end.

Why was his Father coming? He was a Bann, he had more important things to do than come traipsing about the countryside. There had to be some ulterior motive here. What did he want? This situation was making him nervous.

He led the three of them up to his quarters, it was the most secluded place he could think of… or at the very least messengers didn’t bother him there.

He forced a smile and continued, “She’s very easy to get along with, and I think you’ll like her.”

Julien paced back and forth on the spot quickly. This was just so like him, just turning up practically unannounced. He would bet good coin it was his sister that had sent the letter, not his father. This had to be part of his plan - to catch him off guard.

“So… if you two are going to meet my father you should know he’s very, very… particular,” he said carefully.

He didn’t want to disrespect his father by bad-mouthing him behind his back but they had to be warned at the very least.

“I-I’ll need to get into a bath real quick. If I’m not completely clean and presentable he’s likely to tear me a new one. He won’t accept anything less than perfection,” he sighed loudly then changed the subject, “The two of you are welcome to the wine in the side room there, I’m sure there will be a feast of some sort when they arrive so you can eat then… just make yourselves comfortable.”

He began to panic. ‘Within the hour’ was quite vague and he didn’t know if he could get ready in time. He walked quickly to the dresser he kept his finer clothes in, desperately pulling out item after item trying to find something decent to wear.

"It sounds like you’ve had a lot of pressure from him, I understand the harsh lessons to keep kids alive but no one can be perfect. Is that what being a part of a noble family means?" Aphel replied honestly and nudged Solas to fetch the wine.

Her travels into Orlesian cities had only been a superficial insight into the world of lords and ladies. Being an inquisitor gave her some measure of limelight but it couldn’t really be compared to a noble birth.

Julien stopped searching for a minute and sighed deeply.

“I’m the fourth born child – the baby. My sister Celeste is the heir and Andre is the spare. Gywn and I were the extras and as such we were expected to be married off to other families for connections and prestige, you know, that sort of shit. Gwyn ended up being a mage who can’t hold any titles so the pressure for me to marry higher…” he drifted off.

He honestly hadn’t thought about all of this since he became the Herald. In a small way, he was glad he had his mark. It meant he had a very good excuse not to go back – he was needed elsewhere.

“I suppose I can’t complain though, there are people out there who have worse problems then an overbearing father,” he added, forcing a chuckle to lighten the mood.

Gratefully taking a sip of the warming liquid Aphel felt well enough to get up and move around.

"Isn’t Dorian a… a something-or-rather? I know he isn’t exactly in good graces with his family but it should count for something, right?"

She walked over to the beautifully stained glass, running her fingertips along the vibrant surface while enjoying the cool wind blowing freely over the Frostbacks.

“Pavus… and I… I hadn’t thought of that actually,”

Perhaps she was right, maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. He hadn’t brought this topic up with anyone, not even Dorian, before. He suddenly felt silly for not realizing it earlier. Knowing his Father, a pariah from Tevinter wouldn’t be good enough.

"Still, I don’t know… he’s had his heart set on this girl from Starkhaven for the longest time. And he might not approve of a pairing that wouldn’t… result in heirs,"

There was a knock at the door as it opened and Julien’s heart stopped for a minute until Dorian appeared at the top of the stairs.

“There you are! I went to look for you all to see what was taking so long an- Maker’s breath Julien, what did you do to your arm?” Dorian said, rushing over to Julien to examine him.

"Do heirs typically come from the youngest children?" Aphel spoke obliviously.

When she turned she saw Julien blushing furiously at her while Dorian fussed over his lover’s injuries. Solas tried to look busy in the corner and subtly rearranged some of Julien’s library.

Julien felt his face heat up uncontrollably. This was such an awkward conversation to be having right now and Dorian mother henning him wasn’t exactly helping either.

“Well no but my Father always says,” he paused for a moment to clear his throat and do an impression, “More Trevelyans in more places is never a bad thing,”

Dorian gave him an odd look.

“Well then, as interesting as this conversation is, I’m afraid I must interrupt. Your shoulder is dislocated, my dear,” Dorian said, giving him a gentle pat on the good shoulder.

"Oh dear… My clan always encouraged us to live our lives before having children. If we did. You see a Dalish child is raised by the clan, not only the parents, and knowledge and skills to live are the only true inheritance. It may sound barbaric but I wouldn’t have traded that for anything. I am truly sorry for both you and Dorian to have grown up the way you did.”

Sipping more of her wine seemed to have made her emotions bubble much more freely and she squinted at the bottle to check the make for its potency.

Maker’s balls this was going to hurt. He remembered seeing one of the minor lords getting his shoulder relocated during a hunting trip once. It did not look pleasant.

“Ok I am going to need to borrow your foot and hands, Dor,” he said, laying down slowly on the bed, making sure his shoulder an arm were hanging off the side.

Julien ignored the raised eyebrow Dorian shot at him and raised his arm a little to hold onto Dorians hand, lacing fingers gently together. He gave his hand a squeeze, more for his own comfort than his. This was going to be sore for weeks.

“Rest your foot on my armpit and pull my arm slowly, dear. The tension will make the muscle stretch and the joint should hopefully pop back into place.”

As they did this, Julien listened to Aphel’s words intently, trying to ignore the pain as best he could.

“That honestly sounds like a better method then the ‘make lots of babies and let nannies take care of them’ method nobles seem to like. It doesn’t sound barbaric at all it sounds… nice,”

 Aphel wandered over and gave the man a swig of wine and a piece of cloth between his teeth and Dorian pulled.

It was over relatively quickly but by the sounds he made she was certain it wouldn’t have seemed that way to Julien. Dorian then knelt over him and kissed him gently on the forehead, whispering apologies into his ear.

Julien felt like he was going to cry. That hurt worse than anything he’d ever felt before. He reached up with his good arm and pulled Dorian in for a proper make-me-feel-better-kiss.

“L-let’s just get this arm in a sling before I cry all over you.” he said, rather pathetically.

Suddenly, the sound of horns could be heard from down at the gates. Shit. Within the hour had apparently translated to about twenty minutes.

“Oh no no no I-I’m not ready!”

He quickly shot up, grabbed the nearest clean shirt and attempted to put it on without irritating his shoulder too bad. He was supposed to ice it but he’d have to just deal with the swelling, there wasn’t any time to fetch any.

“Aphel, can you pour me a glass of that? I’m going to need it to get through this,”

Aphel scrambled to grab a mug and pour it while rushing back to Julien and managed to trip and land on her face, spilling the wine over herself and anything within a foot radius.

"Fenhedis†!"

Well… shit. This literally could not get any worse. All of the nice clothes he’d pulled out earlier were now soaked with wine. As was the rug. And Dorian. And himself. Holy shit, those mugs held a lot of liquid.

“Are you ok, Aphel? Last thing we need right now is another dislocated shoulder” he said, pushing the current state of them all to the back of his mind.

Dorian stood there completely stunned by his new ‘look’. Solas looked concerned for Aphel, but otherwise amused at the situation. Julien decided if the maker was real, he had a hell of a sense of humour.

"Mythal’s mercy. I am so sorry. I promise I’ll get you the largest cheesecake you’ve ever seen." Aphel picked herself up and realised exactly how much damage she’d done and pressed her palm to her forehead. "Why am I so clumsy when I’m not carrying a greatsword?"

Solas took her hand as she stood looking defeated. “I’ll get you to Josephine. She will certainly have some clothes for you.”

"Are you sure you should be wandering around? What if someone see’s two of you? What if he shoots something at me again?" she didn’t like the sound of that.

“Perhaps I should go to Josephine as well… these were all of my good clothes,” Julien said, in a defeated tone.

He wasn’t mad. Wasn’t even disappointed really. Just tired. Today had been very long. He turned to Dorian when the mage put a hand on his back.

“I have something for you to wear, Amatus. You’ll look amazing in it,” the mage said, his eyes lighting up.

Julien had a bad feeling about this. But what other choice did he have, really? Turning to the dresser again, he pulled out an ugly beanie one of his hunting friends had made him one year for Saturnalia.

“Put this on, trust me, no one will recognize you.” He said, tossing it to Solas.

He turned to Aphel and continued “and my Solas won’t harm you again. I’ll make sure of it”

Aphel giggled at the morbid expression of Solas’ face and snatched the hat from his hand to tuck it over his head, the ear-flaps reaching his shoulders along with his frown.

Oh she’d never thought she’d see the day.

Latching onto his hand again before he could protest, she pulled him out and down the stairs to find Josephine quickly before the entourage could claim their Julien away.

As she passed the bristly strawberry blonde dwarf, she unconsciously called to Varric and asked him to stall the arriving company with one of his tales.

Dorian quickly ducked up the ladder to the storage area above the bed.

“Oh I’ve been waiting for the right time to reveal this to you! I noticed how unflattering the formal wear they gave us for the ball was so I had these ordered special!” he said, excitement very evident in his voice.

Julien smiled at the man’s enthusiasm but kind of dreaded what he was about to see. Dorian’s style was very different from his own. He didn’t feel comfortable enough to show off his… shoulder like Dorian did. While he waited, he started stripping off his clothes and throwing them on the floor. It didn’t matter how dirty they got now, he supposed.

Dorian returned and laid out the outfit on the bed with a little Ta-Dah! He turned to his lover and noticed the slight swelling on his shoulder and frowned. A little ice magic fixed it up quickly.

A set of doeskin pants, a silk shirt, a nice tailored jacket and a pair of Antivan leather boots later and Julien looked a million royals. They felt a little too tight for his liking but he didn’t complain until Dorian began wrapping the sling snugly, restricting the injured arm firmly to Julien’s chest.

The introduction to Josephine was awkward and full of an unspoken shock that Solas actually had a physical partner and not just some ghost following him around.

Aphel smiled at the bouncy glee Josephine emitted when requested to aid Aphel in finding the appropriate clothing and Aphel was simply relieved that she wasn’t being forced to wear shoes here.

When she came striding out in a sweeping long amber dress with a shimmering golden chest-piece and slim collar that barely revealed the rise of her neck and classic Josephine style sleeves, Solas smiled adoringly and she laughed.

"Now how am I supposed to get back without being blatantly obvious?"

Julien and Dorian raced down the stairs and out into the main hall, hoping beyond all hope they weren’t late. Thankfully, the Maker was showing mercy for once – the hall was practically empty with only the usual nobles milling around. A very confused Varric made his way over to them.

“A strange elf ran past me before, shouting to get me to tell stories to an arriving dignitary? I assume she’s with you, Red?”

Julien continued walking towards Josie’s room but he shouted over his shoulder at him, “Yeah, she is but don’t worry about it, we’ll be fine now,”

He knocked on the door and waited a moment for a come in before entering.

“Woah… you clean up well,” he said, both eyebrows raised up in shock as he saw her.

"Josephine is sent from Mythal herself. And thanks to the length you can’t see my feet!"

Solas had slinked into a blue-black waist coat and matching pants and Josephine replaced the squash coloured beanie for a charming astrakhan.

"I’ve never felt so scared in my life. Is being a noble really this hectic every time you want to see your family?"

“Unfortunately, sometimes more so. I’m pretty sure more than half of my family don’t even know what ‘causal wear’ even means,” he half-laughed, “We should probably get to the main hall before my father arrives or I’ll get a lecture on my tardiness,”

The five of them marched out together into the hall. Julien sat on the throne, Aphel and Solas stood by his left and Dorian stood on his right. Josephine rushed off to the main entrance to greet and announce them as they entered the hall.

“Introducing Lord Quentin Trevelyan, Bann of Ostwick and his eldest child, Lady Celeste Trevelyan,” Josie called out as the two entered. Julien’s father was a tall, broad shouldered, square jawed man with greying coppery-red hair, swept back neatly and a stern expression on his face. He walked with purpose, his hand resting firmly on the sword on his hip. Celeste, on the other hand, was soft looking – the complete opposite of her father. She had short, cropped dark red hair and a round friendly face. She walked alongside her father for a total of thirty seconds before she burst into a sprint and jumped onto Julien’s lap, giving him a big hug.

“I’ve missed you, you big dumbass!” she laughed happily before quickly remembering where they were and jumping off.

She turned and made eye contact with Aphel.

“I love your dress, it matches your vallaslin. Simply lovely! Might I know your name?” she asked politely with a smile.

"Ma serannas Lady Celeste" Aphel replied with a bow "I am Aphel, a friend of Julien and an ally from the Dales."

Solas bowed deeply and gave his own rather flamboyant introduction and Aphel knew he was having fun playing the noble game.

“A pleasure too meet you both. I have so many questions about the Dalish! We should get together sometime and-”

“Celeste. Enough of your antics, get back here and act like proper lady of your stature” Lord Trevelyan said sternly.

Celeste deflated immediately, she curtsied the two elves muttered out a polite apology and slinked back over to her father’s side.

“Julien. Imagine my surprise when I hear from a minor lady that my son is the Inquisitor. It has been months and I have received no contact from you, through letters or couriers. We all thought you dead at the conclave through no fault but your own stupidity. How curious, I began to think, perhaps it is in imposter that sits on that throne. So I felt it my duty to come and see for myself first hand” he continued, stepping forward slightly.

Julien shrank back down into the throne. The preaching taking him back to all the times the man had ridiculed him, shamed him in front of crowds of people at parties for even the slightest infractions. In that moment, he went back to being that small, insignificant boy being scolded by his father.

“Don’t sink down in your chair, boy, sit up straight. You are a leader, act like one. You may have forgotten your family, but we have not forgotten you. You have a hundred of Ostwick’s finest soldiers at your disposal. Do not squander them.”

It was a little jarring to see Julien’s form shrink back, almost in defence of the offending personality of his father. He had looked so happy to see his sister. The contrast was stark and the frown drawn on Dorian’s brow wasn’t as subtle as he probably thought.

Aphel wasn’t quite sure if she should speak and decided to leave it to Julien until he gave her a sign for otherwise.

Julien’s father stood firmly and guarded, striding with the grace of a fighter and a man of the court. It seemed a shame that his gruff words couldn’t match his physical charm.

“Father, I apologize deeply for my failure to contact you, however we have been quite busy here and I hadn’t found the free time to-,” Julien began before being cut off immediately.

“There is always time for family. You have no excuses for this unruly behaviour” his father sighed deeply. “Under these circumstances however, you are forgiven - as long as you don’t disappoint me again,”

His gaze left Julien and scanned across his entourage. His eyes lingered on Aphel’s tattoos briefly before finding the staff attached to Dorian’s back. He raised an eyebrow.

“You take council with two elves and a mage?”

He did not sound impressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vallaslin: The "Blood writing" markings worn by the Dalish elvhen in honor of the Gods and as a symbol of adulthood.  
> Ma vhenan: My heart  
> Tel'abelas: I'm not sorry  
> Ma nuvenin: As you wish  
> Abelas: Sorry  
> Fenhedis: Fuck  
> Ma serannas: Thank you


	8. Light my Sparkler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrivals  
> Part 8/14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note this chapter contains smut. M/M. Not terribly explicit but it will raise the rating to Mature.  
> We really welcome your input and opinions! Thanks for reading  
> ~Kim and Kill

Aphel felt her eyebrow twitch, but continued to smile and imagine the man in his small-clothes. Solas didn’t even look a little offended and kept grinning.

Julien’s guilty glance at her gave her the sign she needed to step forward, bowing to the human Lord.

"Dirthara ma, your Lordship. Julien’s work spans the entire continent of Thedas, to safeguard the lives of each and every one of us. We of the Dales feel privileged to assist your son. It is an Honour to meet his father and finally receive your aid."

When she stepped back Solas’ eyes look shocked but his mouth amused. Lord Trevelyan simply look surprised to hear her speak.

“I did not expect such manners from a woman of your… heritage,” he said carefully, “The elves near our city do not extended us such courtesy.”

Julien was sweating heavily at this point. Things were going well so far, if they kept this up they should all get out of this unscathed.

“And the mage?” Lord Trevelyan said, temporarily losing interest in the elves.

After the man’s attention moved to Dorian, Aphel attempted to turn her face behind Solas’ back as she clutched a hand over her mouth and nose tightly to prevent her almost unbearable laughter escaping while her cheeks reddened. Solas nudged her foot and when she turned back around Celeste was watching her with a quizzical look.

Aphel returned the look and winked to the woman who blushed and smiled as she averted her gaze.

 “Dorian of House Pavus, formerly of Minrathous,” Dorian said through gritted teeth, bowing elegantly.

Julien suddenly got twice as nervous, if that was even possible.

Lord Trevelyan was stunned for only a moment before the initial shock turned to a mix of disgust and disappointment.

“A Tevinter magister? You have a Tevinter snake whis-”

This time it was Julien that did the cutting off.

“ _Altus_ is his correct title, Father. One of the upper class so that should please you and he is _not_ a snake. He has earned his place here through loyalty and dedication. I’ll not tolerate any racism or bigotry while you are within my walls” he said with a firm tone, sitting up straight.

Dorian looked at him with shock mixed with admiration. He could take whatever his father dished out at him but he would not allow him to attack those close to him. Especially without cause.

For once, Lord Trevelyan had nothing to say.

Aphel silently appreciated the discourse but decided that letting it go on for too long might stretch Julien to the limits. Perhaps a drink and meal between them might make the family reunion at least a fraction more bearable.

So with a motion to Josephine Aphel stepped up beside Celeste and her father with Solas close behind and motioned to take the Lady’s hand.

"Your Lordship, my Lady, I have no doubt you’ve journeyed long and hard through these snowy mountains, please allow us to show you to a room where you may find some comfort before dinner tonight. We cannot have His Worship’s own family find lacking in our hospitality"

Celeste smiled warmly and took Aphel’s hand, mouthing a silent Thank-you to her.

“That sounds wonderful, it feels like it’s been forever since I had time to relax.” She said, practically swooning at the idea of sleeping in a nice comfy bed tonight.

Lord Trevelyan nodded once in agreement and allowed Joesphine to direct him to a room, not even pausing to look at Julien once.

Julien let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he watch his father go. Aphel was good. She had managed to diffuse the situation and get his Father away from him in one fell swoop. He gave her a grateful look before the weight of had he had just done hit him. He had back talked his Father.

“I’m going to regret talking to him like that later on, aren’t I?” he said, leaning forward to rest his face in his hands.

“He’ll get over it, Fathers always do,” Dorian said, rubbing his back soothingly.

He gave him a sympathetic look and wanted more than anything to tell him just how proud he was but he knew it was best to keep that for later on.

Following Josephine to an empty and reasonably refurbished floor in the upper east wing, the ever capable ambassador trundled off with the tower of a man and Aphel lead Celeste to a room nearby.

"So, you’ve set up a magnificent fort here in the mountains. It’s only a shame it’s so far from home." Celeste told the two elves with an awkward smile.

"This was a fort of the Ancient Elvhen, Tarasyl’an telas.” Solas hummed in a practiced manner.

“Ancient Elves lived here?! Oh wow, that’s amazing! I wonder what stories these walls hold… do you know if there were any books or anything left behind when you first got here? I’d love to take a look at them if there were.” Celeste said, a little too excitedly.

She blushed. She didn’t want to seem too eager but elves had always fascinated her. They had such a rich history! It was much more interesting than reading though who lorded over which lands in and around Ostwick and other Marcher Cities.

"It is a nightmare to travel to, but the views as well worth the risk." Aphel drew them into a small room, recently used for storage as evident by spaces in the layer of dust.

 “Yes, quite! And the air is so fresh up here, nothing like the air in the City,” Celeste mused, looking around the room gleefully. “How is he? My brother I mean. He never did see eye to eye with Father, I hope he’s doing better now he’s away…”

"Well to be honest with you, we’d only come here recently. But with all we’ve been through in such a short time, I feel your brother is doing brilliant work considering the circumstances… And I’m sorry to tell you but if there were any books, Solas and I would be tearing them apart letter by letter..." Aphel told her sadly while pulling open the large drapes to reveal a blindingly white landscape. "What kind of child was he? I can sense he feels deeply insecure sometimes, mostly where the pressures of an Inquisitor are concerned. But he has an uncanny ability to make me laugh at the oddest times."

Celeste smiled sadly as she sat down on the sheet-covered couch, sinking into it slightly.

“It sounds like he’s doing well then, I’m glad. He was always a little trouble maker but he was the sweetest kid. I think the… self-esteem issues began after Gwyneth, his twin, was taken to the circle. The two of them used to be attached at the hip, I think he felt lost without her” she paused for a moment, feeling regret for what she was about to say, “I’m five years older than he is so at the time I was pretty deep in my studies so I couldn’t help him through it… and Andre didn’t want to ‘waste his time playing’ so Julien truly was on his own,”

She truly felt terrible for her brother. He had no direction in his life, no goal outside of get married, join the Templars or become a Chantry Brother. She was glad for this Inquisition, it was doing him a world of good.

“He started playing up more often after that - breaking vases on purpose, stirring up Andre ‘till he snapped, feeding the ravens laxatives… that sort of thing. Father had to come down pretty hard on him.”

Aphel frowned and crossed her arms.

Solas turned to the two of them “Separating twins… It shouldn’t be done. Even the children of stone don’t commit such… I cannot put it into words.”

"Really! How important are these circles that they would allow it?"  Aphel fumed. To keep twins apart was forbidden in a Dalish clan and if one was killed, the other often followed soon after. "Falon’din and Dirthamen were twins and crossed the Veil to stay together."

“You have to understand our parents are very devout, they take the Chantry teachings quite seriously. Julien and I tried to hide Gwyn’s magic as best we could… we lasted for about a year before Andre saw her heal a cut on Julien’s nose and he ran off to tell Father. They got the Templars to take her during the night so none of the other nobles would see,” she said looking away from them.

She was absolutely disgusted with how her parents had handled the situation. As soon as their daughter had shown signs, they abandoned her completely. When she took the reins, things would be different. 

Aphel suddenly felt exhausted.

"Celeste, I am thankful for you coming here, even if Julien is troubled by his father, you have planted a calmness and confidence back into him, I’m certain of it. I will see you later tonight." She nodded to the red head and gave her best smile.

"You like her, don’t you?" Solas queried as the two of them ambled back to Josephine’s quarters.

"Hmm. was it that obvious?" She giggled.

Solas shrugged and tangled his fingers in hers and the two of them became lost in the conversation and the endless halls of Skyhold keep.

 

Julien sighed in contentment and laid backwards across Dorian’s lap, interrupting the man’s reading. He giggled at the disgruntled look he received.

“Don’t give me that look, I know you enjoy these little moments” he said, reaching up to cup Dorian’s face gently with his left hand.

At least it was quiet in the library. Most of the wandering mages had shuffled off to their tower before the sun had set, leaving the two of them blissfully alone. They had considered returning to Julien’s quarters but it reeked of wine still. It was about half an hour before dinner was to be served in the main hall and Julien was beginning to get nervous again. This apparently showed on his face because Dorian gave him a concerned look.

“Try not to think too deeply about it, Amatus. I’m sure he won’t speak out so soon after having his ego taken down a notch,” Dorian said, placing a hand over Julien’s and giving it a squeeze.

Julien hoped he was right, for both their sakes. He wanted to stay like this forever but he knew they should go search for Aphel and Solas. Maybe just a moment longer wouldn’t hurt.

Truthfully, Dorian had not been able to become invested in the book at all. The arrival of the parent of his partner was a BIG DEAL. Dorian leant into Julien’s warm palm, tossed away the journal of astronomy and magic and rolled the two of them until his body hovered above Julien’s in the chair and quickly nipped at his lover’s ear and listened to him giggle.

Dorian had wondered, imagined meeting the man called “Bann” and it had truly been much worse than he’d hoped. He supposed it wasn’t really his fault, obviously the man had a deep-seated problem with anything outside his limited reality. For Maker’s sake he’d blatantly insulted Aphel and Solas and they hardly carried a reputation for blood magic and human sacrifice.

"Dorian, we only have half an hour!" Julien blurted while his cheeks reddened and his buttons slid open.

"Trust me amatus, I think we both need this."

He was right. After all he’d been through in the past twenty four hours alone he desperately needed this. He just wasn’t sure this was the right place and time. I mean, they were in the very public library. If Leliana decided to come down from the rookery it would be so awkward and mortifying and somehow the thought of being caught made the idea seem more… exciting. He mentally shook his head. Dorian was definitely a bad influence on him.

“Dor, I think we should re-”

The rest of the words died on his tongue as Dorian kissed the sensitive spot on his throat. Maker damn this man and his wonderful ability to take his breath away.

Julien’s strangled gasp certainly did nothing to change Dorian’s mind and he lay a string of small kisses up the smooth skin of his neck, tempted to leave a mark on the tender vein, and across the stubble on his jaw, making his way to those warm lips, already open from the small noises he made.

"Are you tempting fate amatus? We are in a library, you really ought to keep it down.”

Julien gave a small whimper and pressed his mouth impatiently to the mage’s. Gentle sparks shot through him at the soft texture of Dorian’s tongue caressing his own.

Dorian’s hands roamed freely and Julien squirmed in the seat.

"Why are you taunting me Dor… this is cruel…" he finally murmured when their lips broke apart. He was still acutely aware that they were in a library probably only a few metres away from the next silent reader and it had his heart jumping whenever he let out an involuntary moan.

"Shhhhh" Dorian laughed, completely amused and aroused at the same time. "Okay okay, let’s go to the bedroom then, yes?"

Julien grabbed Dorian’s hand and practically sprinted up to the secluded room with him, completely ignoring any and all questions directed at them on their way. No wandering dignitaries or messengers were going to ruin this for him.

Finally truly alone with Dorian, Julien let himself go. He pushed the Tevene playfully onto the bed, straddling his hips and completely covering the man in sloppy, needy kisses.

“Completely shameless, aren’t you?” Dorian teased, letting his hands roam the others body freely.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Let’s-bang-in-public-places,”

"Why, I would expect that from myself. You on the other hand, continue to surprise me." Dorian chuckled and bucked firmly to the man above him who gasped and fell forward. Now only centimetres from each other’s faces, they only paused for a breath before roughly locking lips.

Julien let his left hand tangle through the mages hair, his thumb stroking dorian’s cheek and then moving to pull at the various ties and clasps locking his lover away from him eager touch.

Dorian slid his rough hands, calloused from years of staff-work, over Julien’s waist and gripped gently where he knew the man was ticklish.

Julien’s involuntary tremble from the action caused him to press himself harder against Dorian and sent shivers into both men and they moaned together.

"Curse these unbearably complicated clothes of yours!" Julien groaned.

"Try being a little more gentle there love. You can’t force it." Dorian mused at Julien’s pout. No doubt he was having more trouble than usual with his right arm still bound to his chest.

Eventually Dorian sat with Julien still held close in his lap, an arm tucked tightly around him while the mage release the clasps on his tunic. All the while leaving hot trails from his neck along the arc of Julien’s collarbone with his tongue.

When free of his clothing, Dorian wasted no time doing the same for the rogue and then they were wrapped in nothing but tangled bed sheets and each other’s limbs.

As aroused as they were before, there was still no comparison to the ecstasy of the friction of skin against skin. Julien moaned loudly in Dorian’s ear when their hardness connected and the mage felt his breath stop for an instant.

Their mouth’s opened to each other once more and Julien lowered his hand between their bodies to cover them both and Julien practically purred into his lover’s mouth.

Dorian’s mind was entirely blank and any anxiety or anger from earlier events were swept away in the blinding sensation of the sweet milky-skinned man above him.

As before, Dorian sat suddenly, tucking his legs beneath him to gain leverage and thrust against his lover.

Julien was burning up, being gone from his partner was not easy, that’s true, but the shock, anxiety, fear and utterly emotionally draining time he’d been having recently, all the while being in a whole different world from the gorgeous moustachioed pariah was some kind of torture he decided. He wanted him, needed him, to feel and touch and be close. he needed to be inside him and around him and… his thoughts were cut off when Dorian pushed forward, landing Julien onto his back, bouncing softly on the dwarven mattress.

"Taking the reins are we? And you’re usually such a gentlemen." Julien smirked and wrapped his legs over Dorian’s thighs.

"My dear, you’ve been quite naughty disappearing on me. I won’t let you go again."

Julien tipped his head back and sighed.

This right here, the two of them together, was perfect. No feeling in the world compared to the love and acceptance Julien had found in this man. This amazing man. His heart swelled every time he simply looked at him - the way he was feeling right now was so, so much more. He felt as though his heart would burst from his chest at any moment and if it did, he would die a happy man. He laced the fingers of his left hand gently in Dorian’s hair and pulled him down to his level to kiss him like this was going to be his last opportunity.

When they parted, Julien looked into his eyes and he knew Dorian felt the same. Although he had framed it as a jest, he hadn’t been joking about not letting him go.

“I don’t plan on leaving your side for a very long time, dearest,” Julien said earnestly.

“Good boy. I’ll make sure to return that favour.”

Dorian wrapped his arms around Julien, pulling them as close together as he could without flaring up Julien’s tender shoulder, and let his need to just be here and be close bleed into his every breath, every whisper, every shuddering sigh and every kiss no matter how small or how deep.

Truly he had never felt as complete as he did with this miracle of a man beside him. They called him a herald, a messenger and a saviour. In one sense it was all a farce, but to Dorian, there was no more accurate description of Julien’s effect on his life.

Dorian then raised himself and looked down on the smooth muscled chest beneath him. Julien squirmed impatiently but Dorian wanted to take his time.

He let his fingertips brush over the pale skin which seemed like it had not seen the sun in years, circling lazily over those soft nipples and swirling lower, over his firm abdominals and brushing onto Julien’s arousal.

Julien’s mouth popped open silently at the contact which had Dorian shivering with desire.

The mage lowered his mouth, encapsulating a small bud of pink flesh in his lips, sucking lightly enough to draw out the sensitivity and swirling his textured tongue amorously.

Julien swore quietly and pulled the mage closer with his calves around Dorian’s thighs and hand bearing his upper arm.

Dorian tsk’d at the rebellious behaviour and pressed back lightly. When Julien relaxed back into the bed, Dorian shifted downward and smirked and the squeak of anticipation he received from the rogue.

There had never been any rules to their lovemaking and there was never an ounce of pressure or feeling of owing. Only love and admiration and Dorian hated to say it, but he’d never realised sex could even be like that before he’d been with Julien. There had always been some sort of turn-based-play that, in hindsight, was utterly disconnected and unhealthy.

Julien’s thighs quivered beneath his hands when he flattened his tongue against the man’s shaft, moving oh so slowly that he knew it must have been practically unbearable. The loud groan confirmed his theory and he delighted as it lifted to a high pitched moan when he drew Julien’s penis into his mouth.

Dorian reminded himself of their strict time limit - considered saying fuck it- but decided against the idea when he remembered how important it was for Julien to have his father see him being the responsible and brave leader that he’d become.

Instead he reached to the bedside, opening a draw and retrieving the ever present and thank-the-maker-for lubricant. Wanting Julien to not have any worries tonight, Dorian brought his hand behind himself and got to working himself up for the good part.

Julien was fucking high as a kite, absolutely every other worry, every miniscule thought had left his mind and only the slow suction around his cock and the palm lying flat on his chest was real to him anymore. The rest of the world had simply vanished from existence and it could all go to the fade for all he cared.

 ”D…Dorr…..” Julien called breathlessly.

The hummed reply caused vibrations that shot into his core and he practically screamed with it.

 Dorian knew it was probably a good time since the screaming started, seeing as Julien was an absolute glistening mess beneath him. He laced their palms together as he crawled on top of his red-haired lover.

They kissed. Waves crashing together with trembling breaths mingling at the connection of their lips and they pushed, pulled and stroked and played tongue to tongue.

Dorian raised himself and guided Julien, pressing slowly down while their other palms clutched tightly, keeping Julien firmly motionless on the bed.

Julien moved his right hand from its sling to gently stroke Dorian’s penis and he heard the mage sigh, gradually blooming redness to his cheeks with an open mouth and closed eyes. The mage’s head swung forward and his lip trembled so Julien sat up and tangled his left hand through Dorian’s hair at the nape of his neck and arced him down to bring them together in a slow and gentle kiss. Dorian continued to lower himself and tucked his head into Julien’s neck.

Julien planted his own lips on Dorian’s tender flesh, caressing them along the curve of tendons and firm muscles down his chest.

Julien wrapped his left hand around the mage’s ass, digging his fingers in to the soft flesh to help support his weight.

“Amatus” Dorian breathed followed by a slight thrust of his hips.

Julien began swearing liberally by this point, utterly enamoured by the bronze beauty he had found himself with and couldn’t believe he could be so lucky to have the privilege of tender intimacy with Dorian. The admiration overwhelming his mind held him still while he simply pressed his cheek into Dorian’s chest, feeling the heat of his blood, hearing the solid pounding of his heart, tasting the saltiness of his skin and feeling a wholeness from simply being there with Dorian.

Dorian gripped Julien’s left shoulder with bruising force and they moved together while they kissed as though trying to reach inside each other’s spirit.

“You’re trying to dislocate the other one are you?” Julien joked but Dorian was too far away to reply with any more wit than a soft chuckle and a nipping at his lover’s ear.

They surged and Julien thrust slowly but deeply and his skin prickled with goose-bumps when Dorian moaned and clung tighter around Julien’s neck. Their pace gradually increased with need and the building warmth had them both moaning. The friction of his penis against Julien’s stomach was almost unbearable and Dorian came quickly between them. The delight of hearing Dorian’s ecstasy and the pulsing muscles surrounding his own penis caused Julien to quicken his movements, urgently pounding upwards to meet Dorian’s swaying hips and released his own rumbling moan, muffled when he pressed his lips to the mage’s chest as he came.

 They slowed gradually and Julien fell back, pulling Dorian down on top of him, not wanting to ever let go of his miracle of a boyfriend, who lazily smooched the rogues jaw and neck.

The two of them just laid there for a moment, enjoying the calm after the storm. They needed no words between them, just small, soft touches here and there. The sound of both their slowing breaths was all that could be heard. Julien felt as though he could just float away, he felt so happy so… content. He knew he must have the dopiest smile on his face right now but he didn’t care, not in the slightest. They shared a look between them that said more than any simple words ever could.

Julien reached up and just touched Dorian’s face, tracing the contours with his bowstring calloused fingers, mapping out the concave and convex shapes, memorizing it so he would never forget - not that he thought that were even possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dirthara ma: May you learn (an insult)


	9. Dance decadance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrivals  
> Part 9/14

“I…I… w-we… uh,”

It appeared as though his words were completely failing him right now. Julien cursed himself for ruining a probably super romantic moment.

"Should probably jump in a hot bath?" Dorian laughed, raising himself on an elbow "I can fill it, you sort out our clothes dear, we may have to hurry. Oh and, you’re feeling more relaxed I presume?"

Dorian left the bed and sauntered naked to the large copper tub sitting beside the balcony window and leaning down to dip his hands over the rim, he proceeded to fill it with a rush of steaming water melting from his fingertips.

Julien laughed heartily.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that, buzzed would be more accurate though. It’s going to be difficult to get through dinner with a straight face with all this going through my mind.”

He rolled off the bed and wandered around the room, picking up the various articles of clothing that were strewn about and sorting them out on the bed afterward. They were creased slightly but hopefully not enough to draw attention. Not that it mattered anyway these were the only wine stain free ones they had access to at the moment. Unless one of them wanted to streak through Skyhold and potentially traumatize Josephine.

"It will keep your mind away from the nagging of fathers." Dorian waved his hand and lowered himself into the waters, not bothering when the overflowing water caused a puddle. "Family may be forever but that doesn’t mean you have to listen to them."

“Oh-ho after the show I put on for him before, I doubt I’ll be getting any nagging tonight, more likely to be on the receiving end of disappointed looks” Julien said, moseying over to the bath himself.

He tested the water with his hand before swinging a leg over the side and lowing himself in, being careful with his injured shoulder. He settled down while leaning back against the mage’s chest, resting his head on Dorian's shoulder and closing his eyes.

“Oh sweet maker the water feels so good,” he whispered, more to himself than Dorian.

Dorian swished his hands back and forth along the surface.

"His son is the "Herald of Andraste" and that still isn’t enough for him." he shook his head "I can’t say I believe he is worth your time… but if it’s possible, we could try to reason with the man? I would hate to see you ending up like myself.”

Julien sighed, sinking down into the water some more.

“He’s a stubborn mule set in his ways. I don’t think he’ll stop hounding me until I marry some high-born lady to garner alliances and connections” he paused a moment to think before continuing “I don’t think anything I could offer him would be of greater worth than that, in his eyes.”

Dorian sighed… marriage… more trouble than it was worth is what he’d always thought. Whether or not he found the idea intriguing, he thought that now would not be the right time.

"What about a farce? Paint up one of your friends, Cassandra perhaps? Everyone has their price, you would receive a silent nod of approval and your father some morbid self-satisfaction and we could be left alone, at least for the time being. It is a temporary solution but perhaps saving the world will make up for a little white lie eh?"

Julien wasn't sure he liked the idea of outright lying to his father. Not to mention how weird it would feel to act like that with Cassandra. It wasn't a bad idea per se, he just wasn't sure it was the right one.

“I don’t know… I don’t think Cassandra would agree to it, regardless of what we bribe her with… and I don’t want-” he cut himself off for a second to find the words “I don’t want to… No. We shouldn't have to hide our relationship. It wouldn't be fair on you” he said, leaning his head back to plant a small kiss on the side of Dorian’s mouth.

"You know word would spread quicker than a forest fire if we said I was with Cassandra… I just can’t do it.”

His reply made Dorian unusually happy and he stroked Julien’s lips with the pad of his thumb appreciatively.

"It is up to you, Amatus."

“We’ll just wait and see what he says then, I’m sure I’ll be about to talk my way out of whatever he throws at me.” Julien replied with a smile.

As much as he really didn't want to, Julien scooted forward to get out of the bath without accidentally stepping on Dorian. He grabbed his towel and started drying himself off quickly.

“I suppose we should probably get down there soon, huh? They’ve likely to have started already” he said sheepishly.

"Whatever you desire, my dear." Dorian stood, dripping, and maneuvered behind Julien to wrap his arms around the redhead tightly, leaving a kiss and a small red mark on his neck. Julien was a temptation he would never resist.

Dorian dressed swiftly and helped Julien with tucking and tying and the two quietly skirted various workers to make their way to the dining hall.

When they got to it, the Dining hall was bustling with activity. Servants with large platters skittered around the place delivering glasses of wine and canapés to everyone in attendance. Julien casually grabbed two glasses of the wine as it was ferried past them and handed one to Dorian. Taking a quick gulp for courage, he headed over to the table with his father and inner circle.

Everyone seemed to be getting along well enough, and they were kind enough to leave the space at the head of the table and the spot directly to the right of it free for the two of them to sit together.

“Terribly sorry we’re late, had some last minute business to attend to” Julien said confidently, hoping no one would pry too much.

He glanced around the table and smiled at Solas, Aphel and Celeste, all of whom looked to be in a rather deep conversation. He was glad his sister was making friends.

"You have truly never been to the sea?" Celeste asked with wide eyes.

"Never. There are stories and it sounds like an interesting place, like a desert with water or a giant lake… Surely it could not be so special." Aphel could only turn her mind to the drawings she’d seen but every person who had found out this thing about her made out like it could not be compared. Solas had begun this line of conversation when he had been telling the story of the sea dragons.

Celeste leaned into her, about to say something important it seemed until she was silenced by the introduction of Julien and Dorian by their glittering ambassador.

“Late to your own feast? I thought I raised you better than that.” Lord Trevelyan grumbled, taking a sip from his wine.

Celeste frowned and placed a hand on her fathers.

“Let him be, Father. Just enjoy the food and company.” She said carefully, hoping to not cause a scene with him.

Thanking her lucky stars, the man actually listened to her for once and he turned to continue his conversation with Vivienne. Letting out a sigh of relief, she leaned back to Aphel.

“You’ll have to come back with me to Ostwick when this is all over. We have one of the largest docks in all the Free Marches! I could take you out on the sea on one of the family’s private yachts” she said in a silky voice, subtly rubbing her leg briefly against Aphel’s “Solas is welcome to come along too of course.”

She hoped she wasn’t being too forward. She’d been caught off guard earlier with the Elf’s charm and she wasn’t going to let herself be on the receiving end again. That and the wine may be talking a little bit.

"Ma serannas, Lady Celeste. Though admittedly I cannot swim." Solas shrugged.

Aphel nudged her lightly back but turned to the mage.

"Don’t worry, if you fall in we’ll jump and save you." Aphel drawled, trying not too blush.

"Yes Solas, don’t worry! I can fight as well as my brothers, you’re in safe hands."

Aphel brushed a hand against her shoulder lightly, “you’re a warrior too? What style do you practice?”

Celeste smiled widely. Not too forward then.

“I never was one for slow combat, in and out real quick with dual daggers.” She responded, doing the motions with her hands as a demonstration.

She took a sip of her wine, grabbed her napkin to wipe the side of her mouth and accidentally dropped it under the table. Onto Aphel’s lap.

“Oh how clumsy of me, my apologies” she said with a sly smile.

She reached under the table and grabbed the napkin, gently brushing the back of her hand against Aphel’s thigh. She was determined to make the elf blush for her at least once before the night was through.

The motion was so sudden Aphel barely held in a squeak of surprise. She heard a small chuckle from Solas to her left who had the audacity to pinch her ribs and actually make her squeal and jerk practically into Celeste’s arms.

They were teasing her! And not even pulling their punches. Aphel apologised to the green eyes that glimmered with success and she nervously adjusted her clothes.

"Say Cel, perhaps you would be available to spar later on? I do have trouble keeping up with faster opponents and I wonder which of us would end up on top?"

Celeste had thought a single blush would her prize but it seemed she had won so much more. She smiled a little too gleefully before composing herself.

“Of course, anything I can do to assist you, my lady. Although, I have to warn you - I always end up on top, not matter how tenacious the partner” she said, winking playfully at the smaller woman.

She thought she saw the large Qunari man sitting across from her give her a thumbs up, but she knew she must have been seeing things. She decided against drinking any more wine tonight. She knew this was going to be something she’d want to remember.

So far the food was reasonable, better and more bountiful than they usually had at her Skyhold and it appeared the other Solas was hiding away so Aphel wondered if he’d felt guilty about earlier or was simply too deep in a book to bother about some formal dinner.

As they ate she also saw Varric looking at her with interest and it was her habit to smile and nod to him. She supposed it couldn’t hurt to be friendly to those she considered friends.

Julien was looking much calmer than earlier and occasionally he would simply look to his sister with a small smile.

Everything was going…. surprisingly well, Julien decided. Celeste seemed to be enjoying herself, Aphel and Solas appeared to be having a good time, despite how awkward they must feel, and his Father was behaving himself for once. He supposed that had something to do with Vivienne keeping him entertained with her talk of the Orlesian Court. Even the wine didn’t taste as bitter as it usually did, they must have brought out the good stock. His eyes met Dorian’s for a second and they shared a cheeky smile, it appeared as though the two of them have gotten away with it.

“So, Tatts, what’s your story?” Varric said, leaning forward slightly to talk to Aphel, “I haven’t seen you around here before today.”

Welp. Julien supposed it was a miracle the peace had lasted this long. He took a large gulp of wine and hoped Aphel had a good lie ready.

For a small moment she considered telling the truth straight out, talking to Varric was just so easy and she never felt like she wasn’t being heard, but her reason made her pause. They were in the middle of a very large group of people and just blurting things out could be… on the side of dangerous with a generous helping of stupid.

"I’m the reincarnation of Divine Justinia II and I’m psychic."

Everyone at the table stopped talking and stared. Julien downed the rest of his wine and motioned for one of the servants to fill his glass up. Oooohhhh booooyyy this was going to be eventful. Varric squinted at her for a second then let out a deep laugh that spread to all the surrounding people save for Lord Trevelyan and Vivienne, both of which rolled their eyes and continued their conversation.

“Ahahaha I like you Tatts! I can take a hint, I won’t bother you about it further. Still you must have at least one interesting story to tell! It’s not often we get Dalish over for tea” the dwarf said cheerily.

"Hmm, well the first time I visited a town I had no idea how door handles worked and I thought humans had some weird ability to make the walls open." She laughed with him and took a gulp of the fruity wine. "What of you? You look like a story-teller type."

“Oh I have a few good ones of our fearless leader” Varric said, glancing Julien’s way with a smile.

Julien was on his third glass of wine and Varric telling a story sounded like a wonderful idea. He did really enjoy them, not that he would ever admit it. It didn’t even register that Varric had meant him when he said fearless leader.

“One time Julien, Dorian, Bull and I were at this Chateau meeting some Marquis for some reason or another. Anyway, the servants bring out this really strong, wyvern poison infused wine, Aquae Lucidius I think it’s called? Anyway of course the Marquis was running a little late so Dorian and I decided to check out the place a little. When we came back, Julien was swinging off the chandelier and Bull was trying to convince him to let go and drop down. Apparently while we were gone, Julien had skulled the entire bottle! And if you aren’t familiar with the effects of distilled Wyvern poison, it’s quite hallucinogenic. He thought the ground was covered in snakes! I don’t even know how he got up there!” Varric said, laughing so hard, a tear threatened to spill down his cheek.

Aphel had to swallow quickly to avoid spitting the wine all over the food and held her hand over her mouth as she laughed at the vivid imagery.

"Hahaha, certainly nothing is different there." Aphel commented to herself.

“N-now wait a minute there! That’s s’not how it happened!” Julien said, slurring his words a little as he tried to do damage control.

Dorian laughed and swapped out Julien’s wine glass for a glass of water.

“Now, now dear, you’d best drink some of this before you get too sloshed and give Varric more material for his stories.” Dorian said, patting Julien’s shoulder.

“Dear?’ Is that what Tevinters call their superiors?” Lord Trevelyan asked, his face completely neutral as he turned away from Vivienne.

Julien paled. Well… shit. They didn’t even make it to dessert.

Aphel turned to see Dorian looking a little peeved to say the least and Julien looking confusedly at his father as though he knew he’d spoken but not had the processing power to fully comprehend.

Varric looked as though he’d bitten down onto his tongue and Bull was looking just a bit too obviously indifferent.

“No. It is not. It _is_ however, a term we use when we’re concerned for the well-being of our friends.” Dorian practically spat, not even attempting to hide is disdain.

Lord Trevelyan raised an eyebrow and did not look convinced.

“You must admit, it looks awfully suspect. You both arrived fifteen minutes late for dinner, clothes not properly pressed, my son having that mark on his neck and now using pet names?” Lord Trevelyan continued, turning to his son to give him a disappointed look, “I thought we agreed this behavior was all in the past? That it was just a phase? Did my words fall on deaf ears?”

Usually Julien would have sunk down into his chair in shame, but the alcohol pumping around his body caused him to be a little bolder.

“No. I heard you well enough. You must be getting senile in your old age, however, because I distinctly remember you saying these things _at_ me, not asking me. I never agreed to anything.”

Celeste felt like she was going to throw up. Her hands began shaking and she tried to hide them under the table. Such back talk… her father was going to explode in such a spectacular way, she wondered if anyone would be left alive to witness the fallout.

The ferocity in the Bann’s stern gaze had Aphel’s throat tightening and she could practically smell the anxiety in the Woman next to her so she unconsciously slid her hand across to tighten around Celeste’s trembling fingers.

She did the same to Solas who lent to her ear and whispered for her to stay calm. It was confusing, she thought she _was_ calm? But looking over to him she realized that her grip on his fingers was making the mage wince.

“I beg your pardon?! How dare you speak to me like that! I am your father and I demand you treat me with the respect I deserve,” Lord Trevelyan growled, raising his voice loud enough to show his fury.

Julien gulped. He’d done it now. Welp, there was no going back. He rose out of his chair and slammed his hands down on the table, not enough to shake it but enough to get the sound he wanted.

“Respect? Why should I extend that courtesy when you have not shown any to either myself or my colleagues? You come into my keep, insult not only myself but also my friends and you have the gall to demand my respect? Who I spent my time with in my free time is my business, not yours not anybody's! I am the Inquisitor first and your son second, you’d do well to remember that, Father.” he spat.

Bull and Krem shuffled in their seats, getting ready to get up should things heat up anymore. Julien noticed them and gave them a look that said not-yet.

Celeste squeezed Aphel’s hand tightly. She had not seen either man so furious before in her entire life. This could not possibly get any worse. She prayed to the Maker that a fight would not break out. She didn’t want to have to pick a side.

Aphel considered stepping in and simply knocking the old man out. What a relief it would be. Instead she vigorously tapped her foot. Why was it so difficult? Josephine paced in the background as though dying to step in but unsure how.

That’s when an Idea popped into her mind.

Aphel lent to ask Solas if he agreed and when he nodded with a gentle smile he slid out of his chair and made his way to Josephine to confer with the ambassador.

Lord Trevelyan turned at looked at Bull and Krem, completely missing Solas’ departure. His fury seemed to intensify at the subtle movement. He turned his head to his son, body still facing the two men.

“That’s it then? You’ll get these brutes to take care of me while I’ve my back turned?!”

Julien was stunned and a little hurt at the man’s comment. Did he seriously think so little of him? That he would hurt him physically?

“The Iron Bull and Cremisius Aclassi are both valued and respected members of the Inquisition, Father, they are not brutes and you’ll treat them with respect. They would not stab you in the back, they’re more suited to escorting you out of here if you disturb us further.” Julien replied cooly.

“Another Tevinter amongst your ranks?” The older man spat, not wanting to comment excessively in fear of being called out further.

Celeste leaned closer to Aphel and whispered to her, “I-I don’t know what’s come over him! My father is not usually this… unhinged.”

Trying to keep the feeling light between them, Aphel took a last swig of her wine and chuckled softly. “Perhaps your brother’s preferences have hit a raw nerve?”

Looking across the room Josephine had shuffled off and Solas turned in her direction and nodded.

Nobles…she thought. Too much stirring turns the helben sour.

When the music began to build, Aphel stood pulling Celeste up beside her and moved outwards to the open space between the spiraling buttresses and the long dining table.

Only a few noticed at first as Aphel went down on her knee in front of the red-head.

“Shall we dance my lady?”

At first Celeste felt confusion and then her cheeks warmed slightly. Oh. This was her plan. She smiled sweetly.

“Of course, I’d be delighted” she said, placing her hand in the smaller woman’s.

Celeste allowed the elf to lead, her burgundy dress flowing about her form as they glided around the room. She had to give credit where credit was due – Aphel was a fantastic dancer.

The rest of the room sat in silence as slowly, everyone turned and stared at them. Lord Trevelyan opened and closed his mouth several times, not a word escaping. Celeste allowed herself a small satisfied smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kill: Do you think Lord Trevelyan had a boyfriend when he was younger? >.>  
> Kim: OMG I never really thought about it... Maybe he had a crush on some dude but was too proud to act on it?  
> Kill: No one can be _that_ straight.
> 
> Please comment and review! Thankyou for reading  
> ~ Kim and Kill


	10. The truth be told these girls like girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrivals  
> Part 10/14

They flowed like Antivan silk spun round the waist of an Orlesian dancer, their turns were neat, even as each step flared with the pleasure of movement and their limbs joined and separated with the ease of a butterfly’s wings.

"They seem to have forgotten what they were yelling about." Aphel smiled brightly when their steps brought them together once more. "I hope you don’t mind my stealing you, I had to do something, and I can’t say this is a terrible way to go about it."

“Oh I don’t mind at all, Aphel! This is the most fun I’ve had in ages! And this plan of yours was most devious,” Celeste practically sang, smile as wide as it would go.

With rosy cheeks, she lowered her hand to Aphel’s hip and gently pulled her closer until their bodies were flush. As if on cue, the music slowed to a waltz. Her smile turned predatory. It was her turn to lead.

Julien’s mind was blank. What were they doing? Did… Aphel _like_ his sister. In that way? His thoughts were interrupted by Dorian’s arm wrapping around his waist, pulling him towards the dance floor.

“Why waste a perfect opportunity like this? I know how well you dance, Amatus. Shall we out stage the ladies?” Dorian whispered in his ear.

Aphel was surprised at first as Celeste’s movements gained more dominance, when was the last time anyone had tried to lead her, to tell her what to do? She could say it was since the mark had stained her hand.

The woman was much taller by far, her physique quite long and slender compared to Aphel’s, who’s fighting style had shaped her arms and legs to firm muscles. Celeste was quick and smooth like silverite and Aphel was sharp and angled like dawnstone.

From beside them she saw Dorian luring his own onto the floor and she knew her plan had worked brilliantly.

So she gave.

Celeste drew her in and had her following like a hungry fennec after a teasing sparrow.

Their dance became so intense, it was almost unbearable. The slow music was not fast enough for Celeste to release the excitement that swelled in her chest. She was used to quick and flashy, not slow and subdued. Each move had to be careful and purposeful, not quick and energetic like she longed for. Her hands itched.

She glanced over at her brother and his partner. The two of them flowed together with such ease. It was in that moment she realised how perfect this mage was for him. The easy smile on his face, the gentle touches they exchanged – it made her happy to know she needn’t worry for him anymore.

Soon more and more people joined in them on the dance floor until only a handful of people were left in their seat. Lord Trevelyan looked quite unhappy as he got up and left the hall.

“It appears your plan has worked, lovely.” Celeste purred to Aphel as she continued their dance.

"It does indeed" Aphel chuckled, allowing her breath to snake across the other woman’s neck as she spoke into her ear. "But I’m not certain yet as to my other plan."

Once more Aphel pulled back on Celeste’s reigns and they swam between the many couples with ease. Their dance was becoming a battle, to lead and to follow and to just be closer.

“I can’t wait to learn more about you Cel.”

As Aphel’s breath caressed her, Celeste felt a shiver rise up through her entire body, turning her skin to goose flesh. She looked down into her big, bright, golden eyes and saw a raw hunger in them. Her heartbeat quickened, if that were even possible. This elf was dangerous she decided. _Deliciously_ dangerous.

She felt as if she were fighting a losing battle here. She wasn’t one to be swept off her feet, she was the one who did the sweeping! But Aphel’s movements, her body language, her words, her everything was causing feelings in her she hadn’t experienced with such intensity before. She wanted to throw herself at Aphel’s feet and beg her, but her pride kept her from doing so. She had never wanted anyone as badly as she wanted Aphel.

“And I you, my lady” Celeste whispered back, allowing her lips to brush the elf’s ear gently.

Gradually the music died down and those dancing ended their movements with a bow or a curtsey and parted.

It appeared many of the attendants were leaving to get back to work or some much needed rest and Aphel noticed Solas speaking with Celeste so she took the opportunity to sidle up to Julien and Dorian who were chatting together by a giant crow statue.

"Aneth ara, that was fun."

Dorian laughed and patted Aphel’s shoulder.

“Yes, indeed it was! You two put on a good show” he said, nodding his head in Celeste’s direction “excellent plan by the way, got rid of the old toad real quick. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough once everyone else got up.”

Julien gave Aphel a concerned look. As his friend, she had a right to know about Celeste’s… behavioural patterns.

“Listen, Aphel, I have to ask… what exactly are your intentions? In regards to my sister?” he asked carefully.

Aphel smiled and bowed slightly. “My pleasure falon*. Celeste… she truly fascinates me. I wouldn’t hurt her, if that is your concern, I know my stay won’t be forever, but it will be a pleasure to get to know her.”

Julien bit the inside of his cheek.

“It’s… not her I’m concerned about. She’s not known for her… commitment. I’m sorry to say any interest she shows in you is likely only physical. She has a-” he cheeks flushed at the mention of this topic, “check-list she wants to, as she put it, ‘complete before she settles down’.”

Dorian nearly choked on his wine.

“How do you even know that?”

Julien’s flush intensified.

“She’s not exactly subtle, nor does she find the need to keep it a secret. Look, I just thought I’d warn you, ok?”

Aphel frowned, not liking the idea of being a notch on someone’s belt.

"I see… Well I don’t like the sound of it but neither can I change my feelings. I will be cautious."

After seeing her frown, Julien felt bad for Aphel. Perhaps it would have been better to keep his mouth shut? No, that would have ended worse.

“I’m sorry, Aphel. She’s not unkind she’s just-” he cut himself off when she saw her approaching.

Celeste sauntered over to the three of them, wrapping an arm around Aphel’s shoulder.

“That was absolutely delightful! Where did you learn to dance like that, Aph?”

She noted the sombre atmosphere almost immediately.

“Geez did somebody die? What’re you all down about?”

Aphel felt her heart pound at the woman’s touch and sent a look around their small circle, trying to read their thoughts.

"Say Cel, can you try to guess where I’m from?"

Celeste allowed the confusion to show on her face. She looked to her brother, who gave her a nonchalant shrug and sipped on more wine while glancing away – a tell of his. Something was going on here.

“Uh, judging from your slight accent, I’d say you come from a clan that roams the Free Marches? Perhaps further north than Ostwick? Near Markham? Ansburg? I’m not sure, why?”

"Much farther than that. What would you say if I told you that quite soon I will have to return to my home and It would be very likely impossible for me to return?"

It actually ached when she said it out loud. She had made such wonderful bonds, but it was all a huge mistake. Perhaps it would have been better to have never become friends with Julien in the first place?

Celeste frowned. Although she had only just met this woman, she felt like she’d known her for a lifetime. There was an ease in the way they spoke, the gentle brushes and light giggles they shared that she’d not experienced with anyone else. The thought of not being able to see her again… it made her chest ache.

“I… I… That would be a quite a grievous loss. I would miss your company terribly… would writing to each other not be an option?”

"I couldn’t yet say, I would like to know though if with the time we have, you would spend that time as my friend?"

To put herself and Celeste in a position set up only for disappointment would be too cruel. It would be best this way if no future could be possible.

“A friend? O-of course, I would consider you no less, Aph.” Celeste replied with a sad smile.

Only a friend? Or a _friend?_ How much time did they have left? How soon was quite soon? She had all these questions running through her head but when she went to ask them, found she could not voice them. She didn’t want to make this any harder than it had to be, for both their sakes.

“If we are on… limited time, would you mind terribly if I asked you to accompany me on a walk around Skyhold?”

"*Dar enansal _it is an honor_  Celeste, I’ll see you two later." Aphel nodded to the two men.

As the two ladies headed to the main entrance, Aphel went to Solas who placed his hand to her cheek and told her to go ahead. Aphel kissed his cheek gently and moved to raise her arm and Celeste slid hers around Aphel’s elbow as they walked out into the cool starry night.

Celeste noted the exchange between the two elves from her spot at the door. _Oh_. She felt she had made a grave mistake. Perhaps she had misinterpreted the signals Aphel had sent her?

As they linked arms and left, she pushed the thought of her leaving to the back of her mind. She would not let the inevitable sour her night. The temperature was pleasant and the moon and stars shone brighter here than they did back home. She sighed in content. It truly was a wonderful place, this. Her brother had chosen well. Still, this was as good a time as any to get this miscommunication cleared.

“I… I did not realize you and Solas were… I apologize for my earlier behaviour.” she said

Aphel felt a little amused by her confusion but also a little confused herself. “Solas and I are vhenan; We share a heart, but this isn't limited to two only. I suppose I’ve assumed humans could have similar relationships, is that a false assumption?”

Celeste was quite surprised but mostly relieved.

“Oh! Ah… not typically no. Most humans have monogamous relationships I guess. I can’t speak for all humans of course, but most people from Ostwick at least frown on polyamory… it’s considered selfish. Like you’re non-commital.” she said, only letting a little bitterness seep in at the end.

They continued their walk, up the steps and onto a rampart to look over the dark abyss of the mountain valleys.

"I can understand how it may be perceived that way. But to me it would be selfish to try and have a person all to yourself, you never can, I simply understand it that to live and love happily you must have great love, for yourself; ar’lath, love for others; e’lath, and love for the world; adahle’lath."

Aphel wouldn’t usually be so wordy with her personal beliefs or identity, simply preferring not to project that on her role as Inquisitor as it would certainly be confusing for most and possibly offensive for some.

Celeste turned to Aphel and smiled at her. She got it. Got her. All these years she’d tried to put her own feelings into words but never could and Aphel had just done it in one fell swoop.

“I agree completely. I only wish more people would see it that way,” she said, staring out into the valley.

The mountains had the remarkable ability to make one feel small - insignificant in comparison to the rest of the universe. In that moment, there wasn’t a Dalish Elf speaking to a High-Born Lady, there were just two women enjoying the company of one another. A frigid mountainous wind blew hard suddenly and Celeste found herself wishing she’d brought a coat or something. She immediately thought of that ridiculous coat Julien’s Commander wore. It looked incredibly silly on the man but she was sure it must be cosy. Slightly shivering, she leant against Aphel, partially to sap some of her warmth and partially to just be closer.

Aphel felt so happy in that moment she might have laughed, until she remembered the true distance between them. It was hard won, but after all, what could ruin this moment other than fearing the future? And so Aphel reached her arm around to pull in Celeste and protect her from the wind, reached her other hand up to bring the barest of touches to Celeste’s chin. Celeste looked to her with her emerald eyes, almost black in the darkness of night, her lips slightly parted as though about to speak, and Aphel gently drew her into a kiss.

It was small, but so warm, hot, even as the icy wind pricked at their skin and faces, their lips pressed hard and Aphel nuzzled into the connection, feeling their breathe mingling.

And it was over just as quickly.

It needn’t have been any more, everything they felt was expressed in that one tiny moment.

For once, Celeste was speechless. In that instant of intimacy all thoughts, troubles and worries had drained away and they were left with only that one perfect moment. One that Celeste would treasure dearly until the day she died. She smiled and touched Aphel’s face gently before feeling a tear form on her waterline, threatening to spill over at a moment’s notice. She didn’t know why it was there or where it had come from. How odd. Shaking her head slightly she leant forward and touched foreheads with the smaller woman.

“Do you mind if we go into the tower over there? Out of the cold I mean” she said quietly, hoping Aphel could hear her over the wind.

"*ma nuvenin, I can’t say I know what is in there though, I don’t know this fort as well as I’d like to."

Still pressed against each other, the two of them wandered through the old wooden door and out of the cold.

The room looked like it was an office of some sort. There was a large sturdy desk in the centre of the room and bookshelves lining the wall. Ignoring all that business, Celeste led Aphel up the ladder to the next floor where _hopefully_ they’d have more privacy. Like hell she was going back out in the cold to find somewhere else!

The upstairs room had random planks of wood stacked up in a pile along one of the walls, there was a bit of broken masonry scattered about and Celeste was pretty sure that was a tree growing through a little hole in the roof. It was undeniably warmer in here than outside though. And this room had a rather soft looking bed that was relatively clean.

Unable to resist, she dragged Aphel along with her and jumped onto the bed, the sudden weight causing the floorboards to creak loudly. Celeste let out a hearty laugh and threw her hands over her head, letting them rest along the mattress outstretched.

“Sorry Aph, I see a comfy bed like this and I can’t help but jump on it.” She said in between childish giggles.

"I know exactly what you mean." Aphel giggled and lay next to her. It was still chilly, so she tugged the bottom of the thick blanket and rolled over until both she and Celeste were wrapped together. "Why on earth is there a bed here?"

Celeste shrugged.

“I haven’t the foggiest, who would sleep in a room with a big hole in the roof? Surely that would be horrible when it snowed or rained? Maybe it was left over from whomever was here last? A mystery for the ages!” Celeste said, pulling the pillows closer.

She snuggled up against the elf, the warmth a welcome change. This was nice. Just the two of them. In a secluded spot where no one would ever find them. Celeste smirked and giggled evilly to herself as she kicked off her shoes and placed her still-cold feet on Aphel’s warm legs.

The shock had Aphel jumping and wriggling but it only encourages Celeste to wrap herself tighter.

So Aphel turned over to do the same, her naked feet paddling against Celeste’s in a game of footsies. It became quite serious and after a few moments they were both laughing and panting, thoroughly warmed up by the exercise.

"Were you raised by the mabari my lady? Actually, a mabari would teach you some manners, scoundrel!" Aphel teased.

Celeste let out a laugh so hard she shook the bed, making more loud creaking sounds echo through the building.

“Oooohh oh nooo my sides hurt!” she cried out, tears welling in her eyes as she held her stomach.

Well she held her stomach as best as she could considering how… entwined the two had become in the sheets. Really, they resembled more of a burrito now than the shapeless lump they had been before. Celeste wiggled her body a little upon realizing this and giggled a little more.

"Can you even move your hands right now? I can’t really move mine much at all… we may be trapped."

"Trapped with a scoundrel like you, I may have to defeat you." Aphel laughed and rolled them in the blanket so she knelt over Celeste with her forearms lying either side of the woman’s head... their giggling echoed through the dusty room and though she thought she heard a creaking below them, she was too enthralled to care.

"I will take you down for entering my domain." Aphel whispered into Celeste’s throat and let her teeth graze over the woman’s delicate muscles.

Celeste let out a little gasp at Aphel’s sheer closeness, but quickly overcame the surprise. Oh, so this was how she was going to play? She smiled to herself and tiled her neck, granting the other woman full access. When Aphel leaned in for a nuzzle Celeste flipped her onto her back, the bed groaned loudly once again under their boisterousness. She leaned forward slightly and grasped the elf’s forearms, pinning her to the bed.

“Oh-ho, you’ll take me down will you? Perhaps I’ll have to seduce this ‘domain’s’ protector to make my escape.” She purred, leaning forward and planting a kiss on her lips.

Aphel pushed back playfully while engaging the gentle warmth of her mouth and nibbled Celeste’s lip in mock rebellion.

"You must escape me soon sweet thing, or you’ll regret it." Aphel breathed while seemingly pinned by the red-head’s weight.

Celeste smirked. She’ll ‘regret it’? Ohohohoho this was going to be good. She leaned in close to Aphel’s ear, letting her breath tickle her.

“Shall I make off into the night right now while you’re distracted then?” she teased, leaning away from Aphel slightly.

As Celeste leaned away, Aphel pushed even further and unbalanced the woman, getting her on her back again while her fingers mapped lines along Celeste’s waist.

"That was your last chance." Aphel grinned and began tickling Celeste with all her energy.

Celeste laughed loudly and uncontrollably as she kicked her legs and squirmed, trying to break free of the elf’s grip. Damn it! Her plan backfired! Horribly, horribly backfired and now Aphel knew one of her greatest weaknesses. Surely Julien hadn’t told her? No, tickling was quite common, much to her disdain. She’d have to get her back good. Assuming she could actually break free.

“Noooooo…. Don’t! I…. I can’t breathe…my sides!” she yelped in between howling laughter.

Honestly, this wasn’t very lady-like. How unseemly.

Aphel gradually ended the woman’s torture and pulled her up so they knelt together in a nest of blankets and bed sheets.

"Them I’m afraid to say but, this almost certainly won’t help." And with that she pulled their bodies flush and kissed with an eagerness something like hunger.

Their world was both vast and minuscule at the same time, drowning in each other’s scents and taste. Until a slight clearing of a throat dunked them quickly back into reality.

Celeste froze. Oh shit. What now? She leaned to the side slightly and looked over Aphel’s shoulder. It was Julien’s Commander standing at the top of the ladder, in that ridiculous coat she was thinking about before. He looked both unimpressed and… embarrassed? He had the cutest flush on his face and refused to look at her directly.

“Oh. Hello?” Celeste said cheerfully, flashing him a smile.

She decided to swallow her own embarrassment and just go with it, at least her court training was coming in useful for once. He seemed to be at a loss for words as he opened and closed his mouth several times and rubbed the back of his neck.

Well. This was awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Falon : Friend  
> Dar enansal: It is an honor (lit: To be blessed)  
> Ma nuvenin: As you wish
> 
> (@^ w ^@) Please leave your comments and reviews, they are greatly appreciated and will be replied to.  
> ~Kim and Kill


	11. Afternoon delights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrivals  
> Part 11/14

Cullen stood before them, his usual pale complexion brimming a pink flush as he tried to keep his eyes on any other spot in the room. He opened his mouth a few times as if to speak, but only completed it with an armoured hand brushed nervously through his ash blonde hair.

"Curly! Oh, I guess that’s why there is a bed here…" Aphel choked out and jumped off said bed as fast as her legs could take her. "This uhh… I guess I... we should probably leave."

“Curly? Do you know him?” Celeste said.

It was a dumb question in hindsight. Of course she knew him, she’d been here at Skyhold for… how long had she been here? She’d never said. Celeste glanced back at ‘Curly’ who strangely looked just as confused as she did. Poor fellow, he must be completely overwhelmed.

“Well then I guess I’d best introduce myself, I am Celeste. I saw you at dinner earlier but I never made my way over to you. Terrible shame really, I would have made a better first impression that way” she laughed nervously.

She was babbling. She babbled when she was nervous. This was bad she couldn’t stop herself.

“If this is truly your bed I must ask… One: why up in an attic with a broken roof? Doesn’t it get cold? And what about the rain? Is the ladder more of a burden or a blessing? And two: where did you get this mattress from? It’s heavenly!”

Oh Maker she wished someone would stop her now, she was making things worse.

Cullen seemed to be crumbling, only managing to mumble out an “I’m… I just remembered I forgot something, excuse me” before practically tumbling down the ladder.

Aphel slapped herself for her foolishness and turned to Celeste who seemed to not know what to do with herself.

"It may be a good idea to get out of here." She shrugged, embarrassed at her actions.

The two of them grudgingly wandered back into the main hall.

To say Celeste was mortified would be an understatement. She didn’t know what was worse: that she’d been caught making out with Aphel in Cullen’s bed or she’d babbled so much she’d scared him off. She’d have to track him down later and apologize properly. Perhaps bring him a gift as a peace offering? What did he even like? What was his name now she thought about it? She shook her head. These were thoughts for a later time.

The main hall was still full of people, they had apparently not been gone that long. Dorian and Julien hadn’t even moved from their spot by the statue.

“I imagined that ending on a much happier note,” she grumbled to Aphel as she grabbed and downed a glass of wine from a passing servant.

"I absolutely agree, but perhaps it would be wise to say goodnight." A small part of Aphel was relieved that they had been interrupted, saving them both the heartbreak of tomorrow. "I hope I will see you in the morning my Lady."

Celeste frowned. She didn’t want tonight to end just yet! She had so much more to say to her but she knew she should let her go.

“Good Night, Aphel. Sleep Well. I will most definitely see you tomorrow… I will be very cross if you disappear on me,” she laughed half-heartedly.

Aphel bowed and left a small chaste kiss on her cheek and waved goodbye to Julien and Dorian, before turning sadly and heading back to Solas.

Celeste watched Aphel and Solas link arms and walk out one of the side doors as she stood alone by a buffet table. Why did all of her relationships end up this way? She sighed and filled up a plate with food and moved over to a table to eat by herself.

"Hello dearie" Dorian chuckled into Celeste’s ear with Julien attached to his arm. "Did I just see you and the Apple slink back to us with furious sex hair?"

Celeste sighed into her roast potatoes.

“Unfortunately no. I made a poor choice on the… er… _setting_ and your Commander walked in on us before it got too hot-n-heavy.” She groaned, moving her plate to the side and leaning her head on the table.

“What was worse is I couldn’t stop babbling afterwards and I’m afraid I’ve scared him off. I can never show my face againnnn.”

Dorian pet her hair apologetically. “All in good time, all in good time. Julien, don’t you have some advice for big sis?”

To him, Celeste looked as though this particular _notch_ , as Julian had put it, had been more than just that, she seemed genuinely upset.

Julien almost choked on his drink. Him? Give her advice? It’s usually the other way around! He didn’t know what to say. He was glad she didn’t get far, it would make things less… complicated. Still, he hadn’t seen his sister like this in a long time. Sighing, he sat himself down next to her and rubbed her back.

“Do you remember Garth?” he paused and waited for a nod before continuing, “this time is a little like that… except Aphel didn’t get drafted into the Wardens… er… i’m bad at this! Look! What I’m trying to say is, maybe it wasn’t meant to be? There are plenty of other people you could hook up with tonight, it doesn’t have to be her…”

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Drafted into the Wardens?”

Celeste groaned again. Her brother was always a terrible gossip when he was drunk.

“He was this amazing, handsome Riviani who was passing through Ostwick during Summer-day one year. We got to second base before the Wardens caught us. Apparently, he was a run-away horse thief and they wanted to recruit him for his tenacity… and Julien, it wasn’t the hook up I was looking for… she understands me… I just wanted- Ugh never mind! This is too much, I’m going outside for some air” she said, getting up and taking her plate with her.

Aphel lay on her side watching Solas read in the candle-light. His eyes were a hypnotising slate blue-grey and his relaxed expression almost had her drifting off to sleep. Her dress was still stitched practically on her so she sat and began attempting to remove it without tearing the gown, though after ten minutes she gave up.

"Vhenan, what are you reading?" she asked him as she worked.

"One of my old journals."

"Business or pleasure?" She asked again, hoping for a more detailed answer.

"Must they be mutually exclusive?" Solas chuckled.

"Never with you, dreamer."

 

Celeste found a nice, secluded stairway near the stables. She climbed to the top and sat down near the door so she had something to lean against should she get tired. Surely no one would bother her here. Perhaps she was being childish by running away from everyone but she just didn’t want to be around people right now… or to be more specific, she didn’t want to ruin anyone else’s night with her sulking. Aphel was feeling the same way, surely? No, she was probably snuggling up with Solas right now. Lucky elf.

Her thoughts were interrupted by someone suddenly opening the door behind her and whacking her back.

“Maker’s balls!” she swore loudly.

"Mythal’enaste!" Feit yelled as the jarring door slammed into his face, leaning through the gap, he spied a woman who appeared to have fallen down a few steps and was now sobbing over some squashed cakes. "What idiot sits behind a door?" He quizzed her somewhat annoyed.

Celeste wept for her dress. It was now sporting a rather un-lady-like tear down one side and a giant blueberry jam stain across the stomach. And someone just called her an idiot. Wonderful night she was having.

“What _moron_ barges through a door like he’s being chased by the blight?” she snapped back, turning to meet the man’s pale blue eyes that contrasted strikingly with his dark brown skin and white tattoos scattering over his brow, below his lower lip and over over his chin.

"I’m not being chased… I just, ahh, got lost? Shit, look let me help you, you look pathetic like that." Feit was always getting side-tracked. His sister always used to say he could barely shoot an arrow without it changing directions. Now here he was, helping someone he didn’t know and shouldn’t even be talking to besides. "Are you hurt at all?"

Celeste swatted away his hand and got up by herself. She didn’t appreciate being called pathetic, even if he was trying to help. When she rose she squared her shoulders and righted her posture, despite the state she was in. She had to hold onto any pride she had left. She gave him a proper look. Another elf? He didn’t look like a dignitary or servant. What was he doing here? A soldier perhaps?

“I am fine, the only thing hurt here is my dignity. You said you were lost? Where exactly were you heading? Perhaps I can point you in the right direction?” 

"Oh, alright." Her rejection made him wince though he had more important issues to focus on. Focus! "Where did you get that food? Oh um and do you know where the library… no the… the quartermaster…. no wait it was the… shit."

Where did people usually keep their important information? He’d been wandering around the enormous keep for hours and he felt like he wasn’t getting anywhere. No way was he going back to the clan empty handed after begging to go by himself.

Celeste raised an eyebrow. Which… which one of those was the thing he was looking for? She was just as confused as he was apparently.

“The food was in the main hall, there’s a big feast going on right now for… er… some nobles I guess? I don’t know, I mean free food right? Gotta get it while it’s hot!” she jested, deciding it was best he didn’t know who she was right now.

It was at this point she consciously took in the Dalish tattoos. Of course! He must be looking for Aphel. Why else would a Dalish elf be here? Maybe not? She didn’t want jump to conclusions here.

“You’re Dalish? I don’t suppose you are from the Lavellan Clan, are you?”

Feit backed up and tried to spot the nearest window to jump from. How did she figure out who he was? Was she psychic?

"You… know my clan?" he asked her warily, too shocked to think of a lie. This was pretty much the worst thing that could have happened. And he definitely wasn’t hungry anymore.

This man was more skittish than Curly was before! Honestly. She felt sorry for him. How hard it must be to go through life with nerves weaker than tissue paper.

“Of course, I’ve met your emissary, Aphel. Were you looking for her? I’m afraid she’s retired to her room for the night…” she trailed off. Best not to go into too much detail there.

Well, that pretty much did it. Feit felt himself shiver and a cold feeling fill his belly.

"My Lady!" He bowed quickly "I’m sorry! Forgive me for bumping you and calling you pathetic and lying and ruining your dress and your food! Please don’t curse me! Keeper always said not to offend a Witch, never jump over the same log three times and… and???" Feit’s mind was completely in jumbles.

"Please don’t kill me!" he begged while staring at her feet.

“W-what?! I’m not a witch! I-I don’t even have magic!” Celeste stammered.

This man was completely insane! What was even going on right now? Why the sudden change of demeanour at the mention of Aphel? Obviously there was something deeply wrong with this elf.

“Look, its ok! Apology accepted! Why do you think I’m a witch?” she asked carefully. She had to find out exactly what was going on here.

Feit looked up at her “b..b.but you’re psychic, aren’t you? You k..k.knew who I was and you even saw my dead sister…” She was definitely messing with him.

Celeste’s eyes widened.

“D-dead? She’s not dead, she’s here! A-alive I mean! She was at dinner like fifteen minutes ago! I can take you to go see her if you want…” she stammered.

This poor man believed his sister was dead? How horrible! How… _impossible_. If Aphel was supposed to be an ambassador for the Dalish, how did this man not know she was alive? Something was very wrong here. Celeste felt her stomach drop and her blood run cold. Was Aphel even Aphel? Or just some random elf masquerading? She needed answers.

This must be a trap, Feit thought. Not possible. Aphel, alive? Was it possible?

"Ss…so you’re not a witch? And Aphel is really here?”

Well this was one hell of a side-track. He paused for a few seconds to attempt to regain his reason or at least some of his composure. Then turned to the human woman and spoke in a quiet voice.

"Please let me see her… um… my name is Feit."

Celeste smiled at him. He was kind of cute… in a dorky little brother kind of way.

“A pleasure, mine’s Celeste. Come, let’s go see your sister” she said, leading the man back through the door he came through.

She led him through the winding, seemingly endless halls of Skyhold. Landmarks were pointed out as they went, she hoped he would retain at least a small amount of the information. Eventually they came to her door and Celeste suddenly felt nervous. Maybe she should have gotten Julien to deal with this instead. If this ‘Aphel’ was indeed an impostor, he would have to deal with her himself. She would make sure the elf wouldn’t escape if that were the case. With grim determination, she knocked firmly on the door.

“Aphel, someone to see you.” she said in her best, most professional sounding voice.

Feit frowned at the door sternly. It couldn’t, no way, just… no. well, maybe?

His questions were answered when the door opened and his sister popped her head out, first looking to Celeste with a wide smile, then to him with her mouth open in shock. Of course she put her hand over her mouth like she always used to, and jumped at him.

"Aphel? You… you…" Feit felt himself shaking and pushed his face into her shoulder.

"Feit, Feit, I’m sorry I’m so so so sorry. It’s all my fault I’m just… Oh."

Aphel grabbed her brother as hard as she could and before she could fight it she was crying. But at least she wasn’t the only one.

It took them longer than she’d hoped but the four of them gathered in Aphel and Solas’ room and Aphel played as she always would with her brother’s long black ponytail.

“I’m so happy to see you.” she told him finally.

"Aphel, I don’t understand. Why didn’t you come home? We were told that no one but the Inquisitor had survived? Do you know him?"

Aphel looked to Solas at nibbled at her lip. “It is a very complicated situation Feit, but I mean it that I’m happy to see you. I have been afraid, afraid to make things worse for you and our clan.”

Celeste bit the inside of her cheek. She felt even more awkward than she did before. They were definitely siblings, that reaction was one hundred percent genuine. The problem was Aphel. How could she be an ambassador and speak for the Dalish if she hadn’t even gone home or contacted them? No one but the inquisitor survived? She was at the Conclave then? Had others survived? Maybe Gwyn? She shook her head. It was best not to hope, it would be too painful to go through the loss again. This was all very confusing and she didn’t know how to feel. She kept her mouth closed, however. She didn’t want to ruin this reunion.

Feit couldn’t help but feel angry at his sister then, he balled his fists. “You idiot! How could that make it worse? We thought you were dead! I… I thought you were…” fearing another break down in front of her and these complete strangers Feit pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

"Aphel" Solas spoke softly "telling him is best."

Aphel nodded and sighed, she was afraid to hurt him but no matter how this ended she didn’t doubt her brave little hunter wouldn’t turn his back on her.

"I’m alive, here, right now. But I’m not the same Aphel that has been with you since you were born, I’m afraid she died at the conclave in place of Julien Trevelyan who has become the Herald in this world. I am from a different reality where our roles were switched. And… and in my world, our clan was attacked and murdered because I’d asked you for help. I don’t even know if you survived Feit. I’m sorry. It’s my fault. You were meant to be the lucky one, not me. I’m just the one who says the right things."

A flood of emotions were surging through Aphel’s chest; the creators were giving her the chance to tell her little brother everything she couldn't say when she’d believed him dead. She pulled him to her chest and stroked his hair, not really wanting to let go or look up at Celeste to see her reaction. Would it be too much to ask for this to all have been a dream? Could she wake up now at the top of some blue birch and climb down to see her clan all happy and alive and safe?

Celeste bit down on her trembling lip. So that is what she meant by far-away. How did this even… no it didn’t matter. What mattered was she was here right now and she had a chance to spend time with her brother. She didn’t even want to think about this other world Aphel was from. Had the two of them even met? What was this other Celeste like? Undoubtedly a complete mess if both her sister and brother were dead. She understood in that moment why Aphel had been so hesitant with her before, why she’d practically run away from her after what happened. It was for the best if the both of them didn’t get too attached. She realized how selfish she had been, thinking about her own whims too much. She would make it up to her.

“I-I’ll leave you two be, you’ll both want to do some catching up, I’m sure. G-good night,” she stammered, doing her best to keep her emotions in check.

"Cel wait!" Aphel called to her just as she was getting up to leave. "I didn’t want to hurt you, so I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I’d like to know that we’re still friends, at least for as long as we have left?"

Celeste turned and flashed Aphel a bittersweet smile.

“Of course, Aph. We’ll always be friends, even after you leave. You needn’t be sorry, I know you meant well” she said, taking a moment to cup Aphel’s cheek in her hand, “I don’t want to take up too much of your time or make this harder for you, so I’ll take my leave. Go. Spend what precious hours you have left with your kin, this is the least I can give you.”

She paused for a moment. She wanted to kiss her. She wanted to cry and hug her and just be close to her but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. They were from two completely different worlds, literally. It was cruel to even entertain the idea.

“Maybe, when you get back, you can look me up. I have no doubt your Celeste could use the friend.”

Aphel almost reached out to stop her from leaving but deep down she knew this was for the best. Solas also stood to leave and she gently brushed his fingers as he did.

Feit sighed. He couldn’t think, didn’t want to think it, and didn’t want to say it. All that mattered was Aphel’s warm living body right here. Her sturdy voice and her… and her… and her vallaslin… they were different…

"Aphel you… Your vallaslin are different"

"What do you mean?"

He inspected them closely, tracing them with his eyes and frowned.

"I can’t say, they are just different somehow."

"It may be because I chose a different style or they dyed a different colour?"

Feit nodded, but it was something more, some feeling he couldn’t put into words. It wasn’t how they’d looked, it was how they’d felt. Feit was always sensitive to certain things. So much so that the keeper was certain he was touched by magic. It turned out to be not quite as clear as all that as he’d never shown any ability with magic, only a sensitivity.

"It’s not important."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gyah, a little more flustered Cullen and a new character. There are some drawings of these characters at [ Kill's DA gallery Here ](http://toffeeee.deviantart.com/gallery/52719866/Dragon-age)  
> Thanks for reading and don't forget to leave your comments and reviews <3  
> ~Kim & Kill


	12. Drunk and coming out at a family reunion, what could possibly go wrong?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrivals  
> Part 12/14

The activity in the main hall had died down significantly. Most of the visiting dignitaries, scholars and nobles had cleared out. Only a few remained, either still eating, talking with one another or, as in Julien’s case, drinking merrily and jesting with friends.

“C’mon Red, show us some of that musical talent! I know you have some deep down in there, I was talking to your sister earlier and she mentioned someone was in a choir!” Varric pestered Julien for the umpteenth time.

“I think she means herself! For one as talented as I with a bow wouldn’t have time to practice petty things like singing!” Julien mock grandstanded, placing one of his hands on his chest in a cavalier fashion while he waved his wine glass in the other.

Dorian snorted indignantly and added, “Singing? Perhaps not so much anymore, but you weren’t lying about being talented with a bow. He plays violin beautifully,”

Julien shot Dorian a look of betrayal and went to retort when the creaking of heavy wooden doors echoed throughout the hall.

All heads turned as a hooded figure sauntered in. The large ornate staff attached to their back swayed with their movement as they made their way to the centre of the room, glancing around until they found their target – Julien.

“Greetings, Inquisitor. I have travelled all the way from Wycombe to deliver a message to your Dalish ambassador, if you would allow me to speak with her.” The figure, now identified as a woman, asked in an otherworldly voice as she leaned forward in a bow.

A lock of shocking auburn hair fluttered forward and Julien was dumbfounded for a moment. That colour… no it couldn’t be. Being momentarily stunned, he nodded his head dumbly and waved a hand to one of the servants to go fetch Aphel. This woman, whomever she was, was undoubtedly dangerous. He didn’t even have a Dalish ambassador until tonight. Whatever was going on, it was best if Aphel were around to help him deal with it.

"So you really took down two giants?" Feit asked suspiciously.

"Oh definitely, and some seriously messed up Red Templars. When they become too infected by it it’s like their bodies are crystallizing so you can’t let them touch you." Aphel couldn’t believe she was actually having fun talking about all this stuff.

She’d often have nightmares about Cullen becoming a red Templar and losing his mind, or Solas being subdued to a lyrium addicted prisoner like in the other future she’d seen with Dorian. But somehow, having her little brother here made it a little less terrifying.

A sharp rapping on their door had them silenced. Aphel stood and Feit watched her back as she opened it.

"My Lady, The Inquisitor has need of you, immediately." an old man with a beard as long as her arm told her while peering behind her at her brother.

Aphel nodded to the man who went shuffling off in the direction of the hall.

"Fey, we need to go. I think Julien needs me. You… you can stay here if…"

"Hah! No way. I’m coming too."

Aphel let her smile overtake her as the two of them ran to the dining hall to see what the summons was about.

“Might I ask your name while we wait for her arrival?” Julien asked, placing the wine glass down on the table.

A slight white glow where her eyes should be flashed for a second before she pulled her hood down further.

“All in good time, Inquisitor. Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise now, would we?”

Her ethereal voice chilled him, it sounded familiar but not quite. It felt as if he had heard this voice in a dream or a distant memory but he couldn’t recall. A sense of immense unease filled him. He looked to a group of the soldiers from Ostwick on the other side of the room and gave them a nod that said be prepared. When Aphel entered the room with another elf Julien didn’t know, the woman spun to face her directly.

“Lady Ambassador? That is what you go by now, yes? No matter the title, you are still a thief!” she said with venom in her voice.

Being called a thief was nothing surprising for Aphel in the scheme of things, but usually there was at least some cause for being slandered. She wasn’t even from this world for Mythal’s sakes.

"That is quite a serious accusation there. If you wish to judge me for some crime then you ought to at least show your face, *shem."

Okay that was a little uncalled for, but old habits die hard. Lucky for the woman, she hadn’t brought Ophelia to the party.

“Oh? I’m afraid you won’t recognise me in this form, but if you insist” the woman said, giggling slightly.

She took the staff off her back with one hand and with the other threw off the cloak. She was a tall, curvy woman with bright auburn hair done up in an intricate braid that was practically falling out – like she’d slept on it and not bothered to redo it. The freckles on her face were blotted out by the intense glowing white light shining where her eyes were. Julien felt his heart stop beating in his chest and felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“G-Gwyn? But you… you’re dead!” he stammered out, rising to his feet.

The woman did not even glance his way.

“Where are your Elven protectors now, thief? It matters not, they cannot trap me while I occupy this form!” she shouted, her voice echoed.

Okay, now Aphel really wished she had brought her sword.

"*Nae sa’vunin!" Aphel clenched her fists at her sides, "How the fuck did you get that body and why the fuck do you think you can use it? We RELEASED you Elgar! _Spirit!_ Rather than murder you I ALLOWED you to live. Do you truly want to test my patience once more?”

Aphel heard a bowstring stretching taught behind her as Feit raised his weapon.

“No! Don’t kill her!” Julien shouted, grabbing his bow from the table, standing, drawing it and aiming it at the elf, “fire that arrow you kill my sister! I won’t allow it!”

The spirit smiled and caressed Julien’s cheek with her hand.

“Oh my sweet brother, always protecting me! He’s such a gem!”

She withdrew it and turned back to Aphel, shooting her a glare that would kill if possible.

“Poor, sweet Gwyneth finally heard her brother was sitting on that throne a few weeks back in a dingy tavern in Hunter Fell. She set out on her own to get here but didn’t take into account the… struggles of traveling. When I found her she was face down in a ditch, barely alive! Starved! Dehydrated! Sleep-deprived! She accepted me with open arms when I told her I could reunite her with her family!” she spat.

“So she’s alive?” Aphel gasped. “You will leave her body, Elgar. You don’t want to do this.”

Without thinking Aphel yanked her brother’s arm, pulling him behind her and taking an arrow by its tip from his side which she slipped between her fingers.

Her body truly looked weakened, but a mage was powerful in a completely different way, it won’t be a simple task to subdue her. If only they had some way to distract her, or dismantle the spirit’s control.

"Fey, go find Solas." She whispered and wondered if it would be easier or harder for Celeste to be here as well.

"I don’t know where to go, let me take her down before she kills someone!" Feit pleaded.

Julien looked pale and kept glancing from Gwyneth to Aphel and her brother.

“I will not! She still needs me as I need her! But enough of these formalities, I came here for a purpose and I shan’t be denied it!” The spirit said in a booming voice.

She tapped her staff on the ground four times, each time a shrill tone resounded and after a moment of complete silence, a door slammed open and Lord Trevelyan walked through, holding a sword different from the one he usually carried. Julien’s eyes widened. Was that… made of Red Lyrium?

“Quentin, I assume you’ve made the proper arrangements?” she said in a tone that commanded obedience.

Lord Trevelyan nodded with an agitated expression. He swung the sword up in an arc and let it fall to the ground with a roaring crash. A wave of Red Lyrium surged out from it and struck the group of soldiers from Ostwick. There were cries of pain as random parts of their bodies suddenly burst and were replaced with the red ore. It was visually evident that their minds had been blown away with their limbs as the clambered up from their seats and tumbled toward Gwyneth.

“I have allies, thief, you are outmanoeuvred! Now allow me to take back what is owed to my master, your life, and I shall leave these people be!”

It was almost too red to look at, the glowing madness of it, Aphel’s worst nightmare.

There was always something completely terrifying about the red lyrium. It was beautiful like a poisonous baneberry, it begged to be touched.

Aphel staggered back and kicked at one of the tainted soldiers who had crawled a little too close.

She shouted at the nearest inquisition soldier, who happened to be a freckled young girl in too big armour, “Throw me your sword and call for help!”

The girl stood still as a statue, too frightened to even recognise the order until Aphel shouted it two times more.

With a blade in her hands, the shaking left and she felt her fear being replaced by a calm force. “Julien! Do something!”

“Varric, go get Bull and the Chargers! Dorian get a barrier up around Gwyn! Make sure she doesn’t move!” Julien commanded as he climbed up onto the table to get some height.

The dwarf scurried out the door into the courtyard with more speed than Julien thought possible with his small legs and Dorian did as instructed. The spirit yelled in frustration and began trashing about in her cage, no matter how futile it was. He had to trust in Dorian not to falter.

With precision, Julien shot an arrow at a soldier attacking a crowd of nobles in the far corner. It pierced the back of the man’s skull and came bursting out the other side between the eyes. He dropped like a sack of potatoes at their feet.

“Clear out of here! Now!” Julien shouted at them

Lord Trevelyan looked disgusted as he marched over to Aphel, sword pointing at her.

“Surrender and this won’t get any bloodier, these people needn’t die,” he said, the sword crackling with power.

"If you think you’re getting out of here alive, you are so very mistaken." Aphel couldn’t hesitate and swung the frustratingly short sword at the legs of the Bann as she dodged a swing from the man. She lurched in close and with her free hand she punched at his jaw, managing to carve a deep opening with the arrowhead protruding between her knuckles.

The man screamed and blood poured down onto his armour.

"What was it? What did that beast offer you to have you turn against your own family old man?"

The wound flared with a bright red glow and a shard of Red lyrium burst from his flesh. Aphel gasped but wouldn’t stop her movements for a second.

Feit circled around and began firing rapidly at the lyrium infected soldiers, hoping to avoid the sudden conflict from becoming a massacre. He still kept his eye on the spirit thrashing the arms of the poor girl as she screamed out the inquisitors name and clawed at the frozen air surrounding her.

Lord Trevelyan grit his teeth at the pain. The stuff was growing out of his face. It wasn’t supposed to go this way! He didn’t think such a short exposure would affect him!

“I’ve not turned against my family, elf. The spirit offered me my daughter! Returned to health, demon free and stripped of her powers so she could return home! You may think me a beast, a horror, a monster but I will do anything to protect my family,” he hissed, attacking her with increased ferocity.

Julien tried his best to ignore his sister’s screams but it was hard. It hurt him worse than any sword or dagger. To finally have her back only to see her like this? Heart-rending. He fired off more arrows into the lyrium soldiers, trying his best to block out her voice.

Celeste came bolting into the main hall with Cullen in tow. The screams they had heard while up on the ramparts had been justified apparently. Where did all this Red Lyrium come from? She glanced at the man beside her and gave him a nod as they both drew their weapons, fighting in unison to cut their way through to the civilians.

Feit recognised Celeste jumping into the fray and wished that she really had been a witch, it would be very useful to be able to turn into a dragon right about now.

Sending another arrow flying, he received a blow to the stomach with some kind of flail that had him gasping, too late to see the one aiming for his head. Which was pushed aside as Celeste punched a dagger through the person above him.

"Oh" was all he managed to breathe out.

Celeste quickly handed Feit a regeneration potion from the pouch she had… acquired with a smile.

“On your feet, wouldn’t want my brother to show you up with his archery skills, would you?” she said quickly, dashing off to sink her twin daggers into the back of the solider attacking Cullen.

Aphel was close to cursing again. Corypheus just kept manipulating and there wasn’t any real way to fight it. Gwyneth cried out and Lord Trevelyan stumbled out of Aphel’s range again.

"You think this is truly helping? You believe a mage can have their abilities taken from them? You might as well make her tranquil!"

Cullen appeared quickly and threw her a greatsword before dashing off again and Aphel made a note to kiss the man if they lived through this.

Lord Trevelyan raised his shield and prepared himself for whatever onslaught the elf was about to unleash.

“And what would you do in my position? Gwyneth cannot return if she is a mage! All the reforms in the world could not change the ridicule and outright rejection she would receive if she returned home. What if the spirit is right? That she could have her powers taken? All the spirit asked for was one life. One life in exchange for a chance at reunited family? A chance for my wife to truly smile again? Easy decision.”

“Jules! Jules please! Let me out, I’ve broken the spirit’s chains, I’m me again!” Gwyneth sobbed as she let herself fall to the ground.

No. It was a ruse. He couldn’t listen to her, he couldn’t. Dorian looked like he was beginning to tire, the energy required to keep up such a barrier must have been phenomenal. Julien did the only thing he could, fire more arrows into more skulls.

Aphel fumed and rolled behind the Bann’s back, barely missing a swiping of his lyrium sword but still taking a solid hit to her knee with a backwards swing of his shield, causing her to shriek.

"You disgusting harellan, _traitor,_ you separated her from her twin! From Julien! Do you think your children or your wife would care about anyone else’s opinion if you would just accept her as she is!? How can you say you care if you have to change her first?”

Yelling at the stupid shemlen was causing her to run out of breath far too rapidly, but she was too angry to keep silent. Now running on her injured leg she backed away, trying to find more advantageous ground.

Meanwhile Feit was finding himself pressed up against the Elgar inside the mage’s barrier and was sweating at the horrid feeling tickling the back of his neck and crawling under his skin.

There were still at least two dozen soldiers tainted and they were standing fast against the inquisitor’s forces. Then a loud cry rang and a Giant of a Qunari forced his way through a line to crush his axe down on top of one man’s head, bursting it like a berry.

Lord Trevelyan sneered at Aphel and lunged forward to press his advantage against her with a steady barrage of blows against her sword.

“You know nothing of the human world, knife-ear! It doesn’t matter how nice, or cuddly, or friendly you are, if you show any weakness, the crowd will lynch you in a heartbeat. Do you honestly think it matters if her family cares for her? It doesn’t! You have a mage in the family, everyone harbouring her gets punished! Not only the immediate family! That includes every child, parent or friend that ever interacted with her! I don’t live in an idealised fantasy world where being kind to one another is the solution to all of life’s struggles! I live in the real world, where bad shit happens and you play the hand you are dealt!”

"Yeah, I’m sure it is so hard for you my lord, it’s a shame when you have to fill your own bath-tub, must be inconvenient to have to pay all those bribes.” Aphel shouted while rounding her sword, swinging it in an unstoppable arc over her head and crushing the Bann’s shield, breaking his arm along with it. “There is nothing worse than losing your family, don’t make this mistake! Giving yourself to the lyrium will destroy you and everyone you love!”

 “You there, sweet dear elf. Will you help me escape? I am truly freed from the spirit, I’ll do anything just please. Help me get out, I need to tend to my brother, look at him,” Gwyneth purred to Feit through the barrier, gesturing to her brother.

Julien wasn’t doing too good. He was currently fending off a soldier with his bow, whacking its head whenever it came close to Dorian. He had a cut on his head that was bleeding profusely (it looked worse than it was) and a major cut down his recently relocated arm. The thing was too painful to even raise let alone fire any arrows with anymore, not that he even had any left. Bull and the chargers were clearing out the room faster than the others had been but there was still a long way to go. He hoped the fighting would end before he passed out.

Feit couldn’t breathe, it was trying, he could feel it digging into him and he was frozen in place. "I’m no mage, you can’t take me. You can’t." He tried to recall all the keepers lessons on resisting demons… ignore it, don’t bargain, never let it bargain, think happy thoughts…

Lord Trevelyan screamed long with the sound of his forearm snapping. The pain was so incredible he dropped to his knees, breathing heavily. That was it. He was done. There was no way he’d be able to keep this up without turning into one of those… things. He would not allow that, no matter how desperate he got. He had fought in enough skirmishes to know when he was beat. He tossed the sword aside with one last ounce of his strength.

“I… I never intended to give myself completely to the lyrium, despite what you might think. Go ahead. Do what you must, I won’t fight you any longer. I trust my children to take up my mantle. Just let them know everything I did, I did for them. For their mother. I accept whatever punishment you see fit to dish out. Just make sure you make the right choice, lest my son come down upon you with the wrath of the Maker.”

“Oh dearest. Oh sweet, innocent child. Why would I take you? I’m not demon! I’m just asking you to help free me so I can aid my brother. He won’t last much longer and then the world would be without its Inquisitor. All you have to do is break that mage’s concentration, just for a moment.” she purred into Feit’s ear.

Julien swore loudly as he clubbed the soldier back once again, his energy depleting fast. He could barely stand up on his own but he needed to. He needed to protect Dorian. He prayed to the maker, begging him to show some mercy, just this once! But of course nothing happened. As usual. He slunk slightly. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out for.

Celeste pulled her dagger out of a downed soldier and staggered backwards. She had been cut several times on her legs and torso and was becoming quite fatigued. A look of confusion washed over her as she glanced up at Aphel standing over her father. What was she doing?

“C-Cullen, can you help me get over there?” she said, panting heavily.

Cullen nodded to her with concern written on his face as he looped an arm around her waist and helped her walk.

Feit felt his heart pound as the spirit dug into his ears, into his skull. It was working at his will, and it felt strangely good.

"You can’t be here, in that body, in this world, it’s changing you. It’s… not… right…" His arm was raised, when did he lift his bow? He couldn’t even feel the weight of it… "Don’t do this, you said yourself that you’re not a demon, so please, don’t…" an arrow was notched, but there was no sensation as the string was pulled taught, not the pinching of his skin or the ache in his shoulder, just nothing…

The Lord bowed before her, his arm mangled and his skin leaking blood that was far too red. “It is too easy to apologise shem. Look around you. Is this what you wanted?”

Her hand was itching to just get it over with, the fire of battle still burning under her flesh. So she raised her greatsword threateningly above his head. “It would be so easy to kill you for this My Lord.”

Lord Trevelyan did not look around. He didn’t look at the destruction his actions had caused. He simply looked Aphel in the eyes.

“I don’t apologize for what I did, but I acknowledge my part in it. It wasn’t supposed to get like this, a show of power to force your hand was all she wanted. Your pushing the soldier out of the way is what sparked the conflict. Go ahead. Drop the headsman’s axe,”

“NO! APHEL DON’T DO IT!” Celeste cried out, gripping onto Cullen for support, “He is a lord and needs to be given a fair trial! If you kill him now, all of Ostwick will hunt you and your clan down! Please… just don’t!”

Bull’s axe swung down and cleaved the tainted soldier in two, alleviating Julien of his burden. They exchanged a nod of understanding. Bull would guard them both from this point on. Relieved, Julien clambered down off the table and stood in front of Dorian, reaching up and stroking his cheek.

“Just a little while longer, this will be over soon,” he said with a smile, pressing his forehead against his paramour’s.

 Aphel sighed, “It’s alright. I won’t kill him. It is not my place.” She kept the point of the sword close to the man’s throat however, keeping him from moving. Her knee was throbbing horribly and she wondered how long before the adrenaline ebbed and the true force of her injuries would hit her.

Celeste came up with Cullen by her side and Aphel couldn’t stop herself from leaning into her and kissing her fiercely. When she pulled back she rested her forehead on Celeste’s shoulder. “Sorry.”

Could it be a dream? Feit was a wreck really… not good enough for a mage, just a weird mess who happened to be lucky sometimes. Aphel had always admired his …talent, and it made him so happy, but right now, looking along the arrow pointed at the inquisitor’s back, he wished it could all just be a dream.

 _He’s your brother, I’m begging you._ The words weren’t even coming from his mouth anymore. _Aphel please help, anyone!_

The arrow flew, and the woman behind him laughed sharply in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nae sa'vunin: Not a single day  
> Elgar: Spirit  
> Shem/shemlen: lit "quick blood" A name for humans  
> Harellan: Traitor to one's kin


	13. We are all terrified of something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrivals  
> Part 13/14

Dorian felt the connection between himself and the barrier snap as the detached image of Julien’s shocked and pained expression suddenly jolted forward, body slumped forward and his hands grasping for purchase on his robes. As Julien collapsed, Dorian spied an arrow sticking out of his back, lodged fairly deep.

Oh Maker. Oh no. Oh no no nonONONONO!

Dorian barely heard himself scream as he dropped to the ground with Julien in his arms. His hands were shaking violently as he struggled to support the body in a way that wouldn’t dislodge the arrow. Julien was having trouble breathing and coughing up pink froth. The arrow had pierced his lung then he thought, struggling to cling to his reason.

“I NEED A HEALER! JULIEN’S DOWN! HELP!” Dorian cried out, voice cracking.

He felt the hot sting of tears streaming down his face. No! He can’t die like this! He was not going to lose him here! Not after everything they’d been through together! He’d only just got him back, damn it!

The spirit controlling Gwyneth rose from the floor and raised her staff, pointing it at Aphel.

“And so I am free and you are at my mercy!” she cackled.

She began waving her arms around, gathering enough magical energy to- she felt her body freeze in place. She tried to move her limbs, her eye lids anything. A loud thundering _NO_ reverberated in her head. Could her host be… fighting back?

Aphel froze for a moment with shock, until her instincts kicked in and she wrenched Celeste protectively behind her. Dorian was in pieces, Julien shaking in the mage’s arms, Feit collapsed nearby and a few soldiers still grappling with their lyrium infected counter-parts.

Lord Trevelyan whimpered at the scene and Celeste was crying in her ear. The smell of blood was only barely overwhelmed by the hot, acrid, aura emitted by the red stone.

Gwyneth looked like she was being rocked by a landslide in the way her eyes pleaded and her limbs tensed involuntarily so Aphel took her chance to run at her, biting hard through her lip as she pushed against her injured knee, slamming the woman to the ground with winding force.

The spirit groaned as it hit the floor. Try as it may, the mage’s will was too weak to make the final push through. The spirit was completely stunned though, still unable to move their limbs at all nor open its mouth to say anything. How frustrating! Next time, the spirit decided, it would use a corpse.

Julien didn’t understand what was going on. The alcohol in his system had numbed most of the pain, he could only feel an uncomfortable pressure in his back. Why was Dorian crying? Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe? He reached up using his good hand to wipe whatever drool he had coming out of his mouth. Red? Oh. Perhaps he was dying.

Celeste felt her world falling down around her. Her brother, her father, the sister she thought she had lost, all in such dire straits. All of them could die in front of her right now and there would be nothing she could do. Her grief weakened her to the point of collapse, only to be caught midway by strong arms wrapping around her waist.

“There are Templars on the way, they can suppress the demon’s magic. Just stay with us, ok?” Cullen said softly in her ear.

The scene was too horrifying that even as a soft blue energy wrapped itself around Aphel, she shuddered and felt the need to fight back, until she recognised the spell as Solas’ barrier, she raised her head and found the man standing with his arm outstretched toward her.

Another Solas ran past to Julien and Dorian and Aphel held down her quarry firmly, feeling Solas’ love through his magic made her fear ebb once more.

Sparks of pain were shooting through Feit’s limbs as they regained their sensation and control, and when he did he jumped up and ran to the Inquisitor.

"I’m sorry! She made me! I couldn’t stop my arm!"

“Get away from him! Get back!” Dorian hissed at Feit.

He did not want him anywhere near him. Solas hand on his shoulder was the only thing keeping Dorian from tearing this elf asunder.

“We must stay calm, fighting will take up was precious moments we have left! We don’t have much longer to deal with this,” Solas said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Feit trembled, but stepped back, instead focusing on the battle around them. Though when he turned, it appeared that only a few enemies were left standing as the sell swords tampered out the last embers of their wasted lives.

He saw his sister pinning the spirit down and felt an urge to run for it. Gradually though he made his way to her and helped her by holding the spirit’s feet, not wanting to get near its face.

The pressure of the elf on top of her gave the real Gwyneth some peace of mind. She could focus less on supressing her limbs and more on breaking through the block in her head. After what seemed like the longest moment of her life, she pushed through.

“REMOVE THE ARROW CAREFULLY AND BARRIER THE WOUND UNTIL HEALERS TEND TO HIM!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, hoping beyond hope she wasn’t too late to fix this. If she could just kick this demon out, she would do it herself!

Solas and Dorian shared a look and nodded. Dorian shifted, grasped the arrow in his hand and looked down at Julien.

“I’m so sorry, Amatus, this is going to hurt,” he whispered, planting a series of small kisses along the other man’s cheek.

With a sharp yank, the arrow came free and Julien jerked forward with a gurgled scream, blood gushing out of his back wound. Solas’ was quick with his barrier though, so the hole was plugged promptly.

"Aphel, what can we do?" Feit asked his sister carefully.

"She’s still alive Fey, I won’t give up on her." Aphel threaded her fingers through the woman’s beneath her, holding her arms solidly to the floor and stared into the bright green eyes below. “Gwyneth, you can fight it, Julien can’t live without you. You’re twins. You share a spirit.”

“I… I’m trying… but its…. it’s so strong,” Gwyneth whimpered.

She could feel tears cascading down her face. This was so hard. She wasn’t strong enough. Her brother needed her. _Needed_ her and she was trapped. She needed help! Somebody! Anybody! No. She needed to do this on her own. Think, Gwyneth, think. Got it!

“Is… Is there a copy of the Litany of Adralla in the Library? P-perhaps we can… d-dispel the spirit’s influence before it… t-tries to take control again?”

"Solas? Do we have it?" Aphel asked him and begged the creators it would be there.

"I have seen it in our world, whether it is here is another matter. I will do my best vhenan."

“I can confirm we have it,” Cullen said, walking up to the three elves with Celeste beside him “I insisted we keep a copy in case a situation like the Ferelden Circle were to happen again. I will escort you there.”

 “No! You need to be here to command the Templars when they show up. I will go.” Celeste retorted, gently patting his shoulder.

She turned to Aphel and smiled.

“Thank you. For not just killing her, I… it means a lot” wanting to say more but stopping herself.

She nodded to Solas and the two of them dashed out of the room together at full speed. 

When they made their way, breathless, to the top of the library stairs, Celeste ran along the shelves, thumbing over the spines until she came to a small wooden book-shaped box, slid between the tomes.

 "This is it." Solas reached out as she pressed it firmly into his hands. Solas could see that although her exterior was calmer than ever, inside she was close to shattering.

“Perhaps you should check it? But be quick,” she said in a confident tone.

It was a complete ruse of course. She wasn’t confident at all. She was barely holding it together, really. Aphel and Gwyn and Julien and Cullen and everyone back there were counting on her and Solas to retrieve this Litany, if they failed… the thought was too much. Such pressure. Is this the pressure of a leader? Perhaps she wasn’t cut out for it.

Solas flicked the delicate latch and peeled out of the box a small printed booklet, only a few pages bound together with no covering. The authorship clearly penned Adralla, with no title.

"This is it. Your sister may be saved yet. Do not let go of your hope Celeste, she needs you to believe in her now."

Celeste bit her lip and turned to leave, waving her hand slightly to indicate he should too.

“Let us make haste” she said abruptly.

The trip down was faster than going up, they made it back in good time. It looked as though nothing major had happened in their absence. No Templars still. Cullen looked irritated at that. The two of them dashed over to Aphel, kneeling down beside her.

“We have it! Are you ready, Gwyn?” Celeste breathed heavily.

Gwyneth was nervous. What if this didn’t work? What if she couldn’t break through the spirit again? She didn’t want to let her family down again!

“I… I am as ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, anxiety clear in her voice.

Feit watched it happen slowly still a little confused as to what exactly was supposed to occur, and a deep chanting hummed through his ears as though the fade itself were speaking.

It was the bald mage, he spoke the words, repeating the litany in Tevene, but another voice was speaking beyond that. Feit could hear it like the gentle lapping of waves. It was like the sound of colour, or a language that used a completely new sense. He tried desperately to hear it, to make out the meaning, what was it? What was that?

Aphel felt Gwyn’s body relax and clench spasmodically for almost the entire time until her mouth opened in a silent scream. Solas immediately stopped chanting and pulled another barrier around them as a white hot wave of energy shifted and was pushed out from the woman’s skin.

Gwyneth felt that thing leave her body. It poured out of her skin like sweat on a hot day and she felt like herself again. Relief flooded her completely for a moment before all the exhaustion and hunger and thirst caught up with her. Oh Maker she _hurt_. The others around her seemed to be preoccupied with the spirit and she found her throat so dry she couldn’t make a noise to attract their attention. Perhaps it was best if she didn’t. The elves rose to help contain it and she felt herself being hauled up by massive arms moments later. A Qunari?

“Let’s get you out of the way” a deep, rich voice said to her as she was thrown over a shoulder.

It was… oddly comforting. She swallowed, conjuring saliva to wet her throat.

“Get me to Julien, I know healing magic” she managed to rasp out. 

Aphel watched The Iron Bull rush over to Julien with Gwyn held delicately in his arms. She wanted to join them, but there were mistakes to be righted. Feit was on his knees and Aphel reached around her little brother’s chest to pull him up.

"Where is your bow?"

Feit shrugged coldly and stumbled along with her towards Solas who had pressured the spirit, now mangled and tainted, into a corner.

"Solas, I was wrong before. We need to destroy it. I won’t make this mistake again." she told him sternly and picked up her fallen greatsword.

"I wish I could disagree with you." he told her sadly and contracted the bindings around the spirit, whose shape was twisted with hate. "It has been controlled for too long. Nothing can save it now."

A tumultuous wave of spirit energy burned and clashed against them, but Solas stood, and Aphel pushed through slicing the biting force with her blade. It ate away at the metal, threatened to press it back against her, yet begged for her to just finish it. So she did, using the momentum of the force to swing her blade back and over her head, swooping around in a circle and crashing down into the spirit’s semi-solid state. Dispersing it completely at her feet.

The Qunari, surprisingly gentle for his size, placed her softly on the ground next to Julien. She coughed dryly for a moment before moving to place a hand on his cheek with a smile. This was the man her brother had grown into? She was so proud of him. Oh how terribly she had missed his stupid pranks and lopsided smile. He even still had that stupid nose scar! A bald elf that looked quite similar to the other one handed her a glass of water and she downed it in one go, letting out a long string of thankyous afterward.

Now feeling a bit better, she reached out to her brother with her magic, letting its tendrils sink into his skin and seek out the wound. Yikes it was bad! Not just the initial puncture, but the rough manner in which it was removed had caused some tearing. She was nervous. After being tricked and possessed so recently she didn’t want to risk it but her brother needed the help, desperately. She closed her eyes and tried calling to her friend, a spirit of Fortitude, for help. She felt its warm embrace almost instantly and let out a sigh of relief. Oh how she’d missed them! Her happiness seemed to please it and for a moment the two of them shared in the joy of being reunited. She let it guide her and it moved, its hand upon her own, bestowing upon them its healing glow. She could sense the flesh knitting itself back together and magical air re-inflating the now-fixed lung. Julien would be sore and bedridden for a few days at least but his major wounds were now gone. She thanked the spirit vigorously as it left her side.

Julien let out a series of coughs, the last of the blood coming up in a gross mix with saliva. He felt terrible. He probably looked terrible. He opened his mouth to make a smart-ass comment to break the tension but he found it covered by Dorian’s almost instantly. He laughed into the kiss. Not so terrible then.

Aphel felt completely exhausted and staggered into her Solas’ arms. “So I guess there isn’t much point in you hiding anymore is there? Would it be alright if I pass out here?”

"Just hold on a little longer vhenan."

Feit shuddered at the feeling of another spirit nearby, the girl had been possessed and yet she called to another? His chest suddenly felt too tight, his heart beating too fast, what was she doing?

He looked around himself to find his bow but only stumbled over the wounded or dead soldiers, and flayed furniture. Nauseous bile was rising in his esophagus and he swore the spirit’s fingers were wrapping around his throat. Feit clenched his eyes tightly and tried to run away but fell heavily to the stone floor while he clutched at his chest, he couldn’t breathe! Why couldn’t anyone see that? He heaved and yet it felt as though his lungs weren’t taking in enough air.

"Fey? Fey, what are you doing?" Aphel called to her brother who was in a heap on the ground a few metres away.

No reply came.

Celeste had seen the elf drop abruptly. What happened? There weren’t any hostiles around anymore. He had no reason to… an anxiety attack? She ran over to Feit and crouched down beside him, noticing him heave and tremble.

“It’s ok, everything’s fine! Just slow down… calm down listen to my voice… everything’s all right, there’s nothing left that can hurt you,” she said, being careful not to touch him or crowd him.

Feit had been sure he was dying, his chest ached sharply and his mind was too unfocused for him to try to stand, but Celeste’s voice reached out to him. She must be a witch, he thought whimsically.

The sound of heavy armour rattling could be heard approaching the main hall and Celeste heard Cullen grumble under his breath as he walked briskly to the entrance.

“You’re too late, everything’s already been taken care of! Help the Chargers clean up the rest of the mess then move out!” Cullen commanded what few Templars had showed up.  

Aphel moved to her brother who was still gasping and shaking, “Fey, you’ll be alright, hold my hand, I’m here.”

It took a long time, and the Templars were walking around them suspiciously but Aphel couldn’t care less until her brother had begun to slow his breathing and opened his eyes to look at them.

"Celeste, thank you." He said and coughed.

She smiled at him.

“You are most welcome. My other brother has been known to have the occasional anxiety attack so I am well versed in dealing with them,” she said, patting his arm gently.

She turned her attention to the Templars, giving them a stern glare.

“There are no demons here, I suggest you take your oppressive circling elsewhere. Are there not civilians over there that need the comfort of armed protectors?”

“You heard Lady Celeste, move out!” Cullen reinforced.

Any protest that had been on their lips died and they shrunk away, tending to the nobles that had been caught in the middle of the fray.

“Is he ok? Does he need healing?” Gwyneth called out best she could.

Aphel and Celeste looked to Feit who simply gave a thumbs up and a shy smile.

The three of them pulled together and Aphel rushed over to Julien and the others. He looked very pale, lying in Dorian’s lap with the mage’s hand stroking his hair and Aphel was sure he was unconscious but soon enough he opened his eyes and smiled at her.

"You bloody Archers, wear some proper armour for once…" She berated him.

Julien began to laugh but ended up going into a mini coughing fit.

“Y-you sound just like Andre, acting like more armour is the answer to all life’s troubles. We Archers can’t wear heavier armour, it stuffs up mobility.” Julien teased.

“You’ll be wearing a cuirass from now on! I- We came too close to losing you today!” Dorian scolded him.

Gwyneth smiled to herself and scooted over to the elf that needed help. He looked very nervous to be around her and she didn’t blame him. She had been fully aware of everything that was going on when she was possessed… she wouldn’t be sleeping very well for a while. She gave him the softest smile she could and reached out to heal him - without the help of her benefactor.

Feit flinched at her touch, but he no longer felt the spirit and forced himself to still, sitting rigidly as the woman worked.

"M..m.my than..thanks." He stuttered "sorry. I’m n..not… good with… mages… My name is Feit."

“Thats ok, Feit, I get that a lot. I’ll be quick, promise,” she reassured him.

She worked faster until all his wounds – even the small cuts and bruises were gone.

“There you go, all better. My name is Gwyneth, a pleasure to meet you,” she said, shuffling away from him slightly – for his comfort.

Her stomach suddenly grumbled loudly. Oh how embarrassing! She gave everyone a sheepish smile.

“Don’t suppose any of the food made it through intact?”

Feit stood, feeling fantastic, and stretched his muscles briefly, looking over the upturned tables “I don’t believe so, we can get some from the kitchens, I happened to find them before… all this. Umm if you don’t mind, could you please walk in front of me for now?”  He wasn’t certain he could deal with having her presence at his back where only a few moments ago… he didn’t want to remember that.

She nodded enthusiastically. Food! Actual food! She tried to raise herself off the floor but her legs were too weak to stand on. She pouted. How frustrating! She turned her gaze to the Qunari from before.

“Ummm could you?” she began, gesturing down at herself.

The Iron Bull, without hesitation, picked her up and began walking her out of the room with Feit in tow.

“Wow, she has him trained already,” Julien jested, lifting himself up out of Dorian’s arms.

He glanced around the room. Complete disaster. They’re going to need to replace everything in here! Josie was going to kill him! His gaze fell upon his father’s form. He was still kneeling on the ground where Aphel had left him, quietly waiting, head down. Julien sighed. He really didn’t want to nor have the energy to deal with him right now.

“What do you guys think we should do with him?”

Aphel looked back to the man kneeling as still as a statue.

"I would suggest Imprisonment for attempted murder. Don’t do something you may regret."

Her Solas moved to her side and tucked his hand in hers while they waited for Julien’s response.

Julien bit his lip. She was right. What else could he do? He couldn’t send him back to Ostwick, not with that Lyrium growing out of his face. Stupid, stupid man. Why did he even do all this? Groaning, Julien rose to his feet, waving off any offer of help. He needed to stand on his own for this. Silence filled the hall as Julien strode over to the man with a slight limp. He looked… broken. And not just in the physical sense.

“I… I am glad you still live, son,” Lord Trevelyan croaked out, his voice raspy.

The man raised his head and gave Julien a look of deep sadness and regret. It was evident from the wet streaks down his face he had been crying. Julien felt like he couldn’t breathe again. Trust the old man to start feeling something this late in the game.

“As am I, Father. You know I can’t let you go, right? The Red Lyrium-”

“Will spread, yes I am aware. Do what you must. You know what I always say…”

“ _You’ve made your bed, now you must lie in it._ ” Julien recited, waving some lingering guards over. “Take him to one of the cells… make sure he has a warm blanket. It gets chilly down there.”

There was a great sigh of relief from those still standing, it had been a fierce fight and though most lived, the tainted soldiers were all guaranteed lost.

"Well…shit." Aphel groaned. "I am going to go take the longest hottest fucking bath in existence."

“You won’t be the only one” Celeste laughed, slapping Aphel on the back playfully.

All of this business with her father could have been avoided if only he had listened to her. He should have stayed at home! He should have…. holy shit. It dawned on her. Her father wouldn’t be returning to Ostwick. That meant…

“I’m the head of the house,” she said quietly, stepping back, away from everyone.

No. No no no no nonononononoNO! She couldn’t! She wasn’t ready! She... She felt herself begin to panic. She walked herself over to a bench along the back wall and went through her breathing exercises, trying to calm herself before she collapsed like Feit had.

"Cel?" seeing the woman so panicked was uncomfortable, though understandable, and Aphel laid a hand on her shoulder. "Don’t think of this now. It can be sorted out another day. We all need to rest. You need to rest. Take a breath for tonight.”

“I… y-you are right… but I can’t… I need to let them know what’s happened! It’s my duty to-”

“You can send ravens in the morning. I’m sure your brother, Andre, is more than capable of taking over for now… you told me earlier he was your Father’s aide? He would know what to do better than anyone else… and besides. You aren't the head yet, your Mother is still there...” Cullen interrupted the two women.

Where had he come from? Wasn’t he sorting out those Templars? Had he seen her little ‘episode’ and come over here? What for? When both of the ladies’ gazes fell on him, he crumpled.

“J-just a thought, you know what’s best,” he stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Aphel sighed. "Curly, do you think you could help Celeste to her room? Oh… I’m Aphel by the way, and I’m terribly sorry for earlier today… um… Sorry. And thank you for finding me that sword, of course you would be able to tell that my style is with a greatsword." She chuckled at his confused smile. It was good to see him looking well, she hoped he wasn’t being too worried back in her own world.

Dorian walked up to Julien and placed his hands on the slightly taller man’s shoulders. He began massaging them a little as he leaned in closer.

“Are you ok, Amatus? I know how hard that must have been.” he asked.

“I will be… father, he… never mind. A thought for later on, when not so many eyes are on us.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow _(:37 L)_  
> That was intense! There is still one more chapter in the part one "Arrivals" so please give us your thoughts and feedback and we will post the continuation of this scene soon!  
> ~Kim & Kill
> 
> AN: Do not EVER remove an object from a stab wound. What's in should stay in until the nurse at the hospital takes a look or you may hemorrhage and do even more damage.


	14. Sing me to sleep with the dream of another world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrivals  
> Part 14/14

Celeste swooped in and snuck a quick peck on Aphel’s cheek and a tight squeeze of her hand as she rose, thankful for her comfort and support. She gave Cullen a sheepish smile.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to take a little detour before we head to bed… I-I! I MEAN BEFORE I HEAD TO BED,” she blushed so hard, her cheeks matched the red hue of her hair.

What a slip of the tongue! Cullen seemed amused by it though, snickering at her embarrassment.

“I-I what I mean to say is… I saw a tavern back there and I wouldn’t mind a strong drink right now…”

“Certainly.” Cullen gave a half smile and held out his elbow to lead her away from the hall.

Aphel stumbled towards Julien and Dorian, trying not to lean too much weight on her injured knee, and extended her hand to Julien who was still looking weak.

“I am glad that went well, and thank you for not handing me over to your father. That must have been very difficult for you.”

Julien grasped her hand and shook it firmly.

“You didn’t abandon me to my fate earlier and I wouldn’t abandon you. You are a true friend, Aphel. I am glad for your company,” he smiled brightly at her. “Thank you for not… ending him. Even though he thoroughly deserved it.”

"I won’t lie, I had half a mind to. If it had been anyone else I would have. Sparkler, look after this one will you?" she gave Dorian a concerned smile.

“Of course. He won’t be leaving my sight until he proves he can look after himself for five minutes without being dragged around the universe or getting horribly injured.” Dorian teased, wrapping an arm around the red-head’s waist.

Julien laughed weakly and swatted Dorian’s arm playfully. His lung still didn’t feel right but at least he could breathe. He looked at Aphel properly. She looked utterly exhausted.

“I will organize a hot bath for you, ‘Phel. Do you have a preference of salts or oils?” He questioned, pausing for a moment before adding “who was that other elf by the way? Where did he come from?”

Aphel raised an eyebrow “Salt in a bath? Sounds uncomfortable, Yes that is my brother, Feit, and since he is here, I think my clan probably sent him to spy on you… they are busybodies at the best of times. I hope you don’t mind them, they only want to protect the Elvhen.”  Aphel mussed her hair and stifled a yawn.

Julien laughed at her confusion.

“Bath Salts aren’t like regular salts… they help to relax your muscles, exfoliate your skin and some of them smell really nice and it just generally improves your bathing experience! You should try them-” he stopped himself before he went off on a massive tangent “wait. Did you say he was to spy on me? He wasn’t a very good spy if he was discovered… not that I mind really. I mean, you seem to be a decent sort, I’m sure your clan wouldn’t do anything rash without at least talking to me first,”

Aphel laughed and felt her muscles strain from some unseen injury, “Oh It would be nothing to worry about, and once they checked you out they would see that what you are doing is for the benefit of everyone. Feit isn’t exactly the tactful sort, and I… I missed him.” she covered her mouth with her hand habitually. “But now I really must get off this knee. Goodnight.”

Dorian leant in and gave her a kiss on the cheek and a curious half smile to her Solas. Julien’s Solas watched the two of them and their entwined hands as they headed back to their room. Julien called over a servant and organized her bath to be brought into her room… with a selection of salts for her to choose from. Maybe he could convert her.

 

“She’s a good one, it will be a shame to see her go.” Dorian said, lacing fingers with Julien, “Shall we be off too? You look like you could use another bath.”

“Only if you join me, I might drown if left to my own devices.”

That comment earned him a light smack on the arm as Feit, Bull and Gwyneth returned to the hall. Gwyn had a plate in her hand with a half-eaten… something on it. Julien raised an eyebrow.

“What did you scrounge up in the kitchen?”

Bull let out a cackle that made the hairs on the back of Julien’s neck stand up. Something was very odd here.

“Oh not much really… just this delicious, slightly tangy yet super sweet cheesecake. So delicious! Feit, Bull and I basically ate the whole thing, this is the last bit. I managed to swipe it before the others did.” Gwyn said with a wolfish grin on her face.

She looked Julien dead in the eye, scooped up the last bit and popped it into her mouth, not breaking eye contact once as she swallowed it. Julien decided Bull was a very bad influence on his sister and he may have to kill him.

Feit had never seen so many sweets in his life, nor met such a fascinating Qunari, and he had to admit but Gwyneth was much nicer when not possessed. Though he still found his heart pounding when she got a little too close.

He giggled at the twins but his smile dropped at the look the moustached man was giving him. A sort of stare down which had Feit sweating.

"Erm, I’m sorry Herald, for… shooting you… I wasn’t in control, and I have a… I’m not good with magic stuff." he sighed at last and bowed deeply.

“Please, just… Inquisitor. I must admit, you have pretty good aim there, right in the lung. Couldn’t have hit it better myself.” Julien joked with a wave of dismissal, but nobody laughed. He could feel the animosity practically radiating off Dorian, his stare was intense. He squeezed his hand tightly. “It’s alright, I’m fine now. It was a tough situation and we all got through it together,”

Gwyneth stepped forward, looking completely ashamed of herself. “It’s hardly his fault, he was being manipulated! If anyone here is guilty it is me! I let my guard down and it crept in. I… I thought it was my friend, they felt so similar… it wasn’t until it was too late that I noticed the difference… I was so tired and exhausted and I wasn’t thinking straight, I’m sorry!”

"I suppose I can understand that, I’ve almost starved once… really, not pleasant." Feit commented with a shrug of his shoulders. "Sometimes you just get unlucky."

During their conversation, many of the injured soldiers had been tended to and those unable to walk were carted off. Only the late arriving Templars were left to deal with the bodies.

“Inquisitor.”  The Templar, Lysette interrupted them “I think it prudent if we have this one watched. She could relapse or conspire with the Lord Trevelyan.” She suggested somewhat aggressively with a gauntlet pointed at Gwyneth.

Julien felt sudden anger flood into him. The gall! No way! His sister was not going to-

“I agree with her,” Gwyneth said quietly, head down “I… I don’t trust myself. Not yet.”

“Gwyn are you sure about this? It doesn’t have to be a Templar, I could watch you-”

“No! You need rest if your lung is going to get better! I’m used to the presence of Templars, I’ll be fine” she said with a reassuring smile

Julien gave Lysette a stern look.

“Treat her well, this is my sister we’re talking about here,”

Lysette nodded and saluted him, then marched off with Gwyn at her side. Julien sighed. Now to deal with the last issue, this elf. He had taken what Aphel had said into account but he wanted to know for certain. And what better source of information than the man himself?

Feit shifted his weight and fiddled with the cartilage of his ear out of habit. He was relieved to see the Templars, knowing any demons could be quickly dealt with, but human authority always made him a bit nervous, let alone the awful vibe he always felt from members of that order, sweetly saturating their skin like over-ripe fruit.

"So… I’ll um… just… go…” He said and began to inch away.

“Wait! I have some questions for you.” Julien said, trying his best to sound non -threatening, “So, why exactly are you here?” he asked, trying to act casual.

"I was, well I came here to find out about the, well the giant hole in the sky.” Feit waved his arms about above his head “Makes me nervous, and all these demon things about. Keeper said it could be a good idea for us to work together if we could trust you. There are plenty of hunters in our clan who are just itching to do something about that thing." Feit didn’t want to outright say he’d been sent as a spy, he didn’t _lie_ exactly.

Julien breathed a sigh of relief. So the usual business then. He wasn’t sure about approaching the clan for assistance though – isn’t that what caused them to be slaughtered in Aphel’s world?

“I see, well that’s a relief then. I may have use for your clan just not in such a… direct way. Do you think your hunters could scout out rifts and report back to me? I could come in, clean it up and be out before anything gets too out of hand.” he suggested with a smile.

Feit nodded enthusiastically and looked between the inquisitor and his friend with the moustache, wondering if the man had used magic to get it to go like that. Hopefully it was only a potion of some-sort. Would it work on elves too?

Both Dorian and Julien raised their eyebrows.

“I grew it. It requires time and proper hygiene,” he said curtly. That was… quite a random thing to say. Why did he want to know? As far as Dorian was aware, Elves couldn’t even grow facial hair. Even though he had apologized, Dorian was still a little weary of him. He just seemed to… skittery for his liking. Julien smacked his arm.

“OH!” Feit stammered and blushed. “Did I say that out loud?”

“What he means to say is, it requires a lot of grooming… and wax”

Feit could sense the hostility but didn’t really care. “So there isn’t some kind of face-hair potion humans take? I’ve always wanted a moustache…”

Julien smiled at the elf kindly.

“No I’m afraid it grows naturally. I’ve never seen any hair growth potions myself, but I’m sure you could find one if you sought it out. Not that I would recommend it. Who knows if you could even stop it from growing once you took it. You might end up with an ever-growing beard! That would be super inconvenient, you would just trip over all the time…”

Sighing, Feit rubbed at his chin thoughtfully “I guess there are some things you just can’t have. Or maybe a dwarf will know? They have amazing beards... Oh! You’re an archer too, care for a competition? Not now of-course.” Feit realised he was getting side-tracked but he couldn’t help it, his mind never really stopped. “That’s a fine suit there! Did you know the tailor? I would have asked for more pockets though…”

Julien got the feeling this elf was a total scatterbrain. How many questions did he had tumbling around in that head of his?

“Once I heal up properly, I would love to compete against you, perhaps we could invite Sera and Varric to join in as well? I’m sure it’ll be a close call with you three for second place,” Julien said confidently, “And I know exactly what you mean about the pockets… there’s no room for my blueberry stash,”

Dorian gave his partner a deadpan look and then cracked a smile, shaking his head. “Never satisfied, are you?”

"Blueberries, delicious. They can make a good dye too. Have you ever tried dying? Fascinating. Takes a long time though. And a lot of pee. It’s the same with Leather you know, Those Antivans know the tricks to making good leather. Better than any Dalish work I’ve seen. Can’t say I’d want to go there though. Too many human lords about. Oh shit, not you of course. I mean… er… You ever fought a Druffalo? One chased me for three straight hours once. Even into some town. Don’t know which one, I was already lost you see. Actually it was because of the beast that I was found by our searcher, Cypress. They leave giant shits."

Feit was only _slightly_ excited by meeting the inquisitor. Just slightly. Well… a lot actually. He was a hero after all.

Oh wow. Julien could see this going on for a while. He felt Dorian impatiently shuffle from foot to foot beside him and he knew he should say good night and shuffle off but…

“Actually, now that you mention it yes! I have fought a Druffalo, many in fact. You see Dorian here gets terribly cold feet so I thought I’d do a little hunting and get some Druffalo hides and rams wool so I could get some nice boots made for him. Anyway! I didn’t realize how… sturdy Ferelden Druffalo are and … well long story short I ended up stranded in a tree while three of the beasts rammed the trunk. Terrible day that was… tenacious fellows they are”

Dorian groaned and smacked his forehead with his palm.

“You went to all that trouble to… you never told me you got stranded!”

Feit laughed hard at the image and Dorian’s reaction.

"Wow! That is romantic. I’ve been in love before, plenty of times actually. Well, maybe, at least I think so? They tried to push me off a cliff… but that sounds worse than it was. Did you know Aphel dated a dwarf once? Well _my_ Aphel. erm… never mind… I.. um never mind.” Oh fantastic, now he wanted to cry. Feit fiddled with his ear and bit at his lip hoping the pain could distract him. "You have nice windows."

Julien blushed and coughed awkwardly. He wasn’t accustomed to anyone being so… nonchalant about them. It was like… like it wasn’t even a big deal to him. Romantic? He’d never been... he didn’t think he was… and then to just go off talking about love? Julien’s thoughts were completely scrambled.

Dorian could sense Julien’s sudden embarrassment and smiled to himself, reaching over and rubbing his back in an attempt to calm his thoughts.

Julien cleared his throat. “I-I’m sorry, who tried to push you off a cliff?”

Feit was glad, usually people told him to shut up by now or just grumbled and called him a _“Damn knife-ear”_

"That would be Keena, he was three years older than me and once when I was following him I scared off his mark and he got a little peeved. Completely my fault. He’d been hunting it for days, turns out. Luckily there was a hole in my leggings that caught on a branch. Saved me a broken arm no doubt. But that’s love for you, right?"

There he went, just saying the ‘L’ word casually again! Julien wasn’t sure why it was bothering him so much but it was. You can’t just… throw it around like that? He was confused at his reaction. Perhaps it was simply just a difference in upbringing.

“Did he feel the same way about you? I’m not sure I would push somebody I… cared for off a cliff like that.” Julien said, slightly distracted.

Thinking about his first crush made Feit grin, but he was unsure why the two humans looked so… uncomfortable. Was he annoying them? Feit was feeling quite happy to just keep talking, though he was starting to realise the herald was looking paler and less sturdy, swaying a little between Dorian and himself.

"Well for one, he was ten, and for two, he said he didn’t like girls… That was before I… changed. If he could see me now… Shame he drowned. Never really got over that. Didn’t stop me trying though! I guess you have to hold onto what you’ve got. You can’t be lucky forever."

Ok. This was starting to get a little dark. Not wanting to upset him or bring up bad memories, Julien changed the subject.

“What do you mean changed’? What happened to you?”

He was genuinely curious. Did this have something to do with how he acted? His scattered thoughts and such. Julien’s body was practically begging him for rest but this seemed to be the perfect opportunity to find out…

"Well, I was born a girl but I realised I was a boy, it felt right… but umm… you don’t look so good, I mean, you look terrible really. Can you do some mage stuff Dorian…messere?"

Julien shook his head. He was fine!

“Oh, so like Krem then?” he said slower than he usually would.

Maker he was stupid. Feit probably didn’t even know who Krem was. His thoughts were cloudy. Dorian gave him a concerned look and placed a hand against his chest in an attempt to steady him.

“I cannot.” Dorian spoke up “My specializations lie on the… opposite end of the spectrum, I’m afraid. Although after tonight, I shall certainly be looking into healing… are you ok, Amatus? You’re swaying quite a lot there,”

Amatus. Ammm-aaahhhh-tussssss. Julien liked the sound of that word. He didn’t know what it meant though. He hadn’t bothered asking Dorian about it, he wanted to look it up for himself but hadn’t found a Tevene dictionary anywhere. He flashed a dopey smile.

“Speak to me in Tevene, Dor. I like the sound of it” he said, yawning a little too loud at the end.

Ok, So perhaps the events of today were catching up with him. He didn’t want to be rude and leave so early though…

"Uh you should maybe lie down, for about a week… I can find somewhere to lay down. I’m pretty used to sleeping outside. Trust my luck and it will snow." Feit chuckled. He was amazed and grateful that this man was even alive. It had been a stressful day ending in a night that was both confusing, happy and terrifying. He hoped tomorrow would be just as good.

“No there are guest rooms,” Julien said sleepily.

He waved over a guard and asked her to escort the elf wherever he wanted to go. If he really wanted to sleep outside, Julien wasn’t about to deny him that. He leaned against Dorian heavily. Maker he’d gotten real tired, real quick!

“Come, Amatus. Let’s get you to bed,” Dorian laughed, looping his arm around the taller man.

“Good Night, Feit. Have a good-” Julien paused to yawn “-time in the fade.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End of Part 1 - Arrivals!  
> Next up will be part two - Psyche - and will be approximately 6 chapters or so.   
> Please leave your comments and reviews and thank you so much for those who gave us feedback and kudos and thank you to anyone who took the time to read this story. It means a lot to both of us.  
> ~Kim & Kill


	15. How many times must a man get punched in the face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psyche  
> Part 1/7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the second arc of our story! Begginning with a battle I have personally long awaited. Please leave your reviews and comments, they are soo appreciated. Thank you to all our loyal readers, we are so happy to deliver this to you. Don't forget to check out the [Deviant art](http://toffeeee.deviantart.com/gallery/52719866/Dragon-age) and feel free to submit your own art or Ideas there or on [Tumblr](http://double-edged-apple.tumblr.com)  
> ~Kim and Kill

"I really hope you’re ready for this Cel."

Aphel dug the ball of her foot into the earth and held the blunted practice greatsword gently in level with her hips.

The match was to test each other in skill, but also to bring a playful competition to a seemingly endless chain of unfortunate events. So here the two women stood facing each other, in the light glow of a sunrise, frost still melting from the ramparts, and a small audience to the side of the training yard including Julien, Dorian, Feit, The Iron bull, Cremicius, Varric, Cullen and a few soldiers. Varric had been tallying bets and both women wondered how they’d even known the spar was going on.

“Oh, I was born ready, ‘Phel,” Celeste retorted.

She had purposely picked a set of very light sparring armour, hoping she could use her more-exposed legs as a distraction. If not, she simply had more freedom of movement, so either way was a win. Unless, maker forbid, she lose. Then she’d be sporting some pretty nasty bruises, that sword looked like it could split a watermelon despite the dulled edge. Perhaps this had not been the best idea.

She played with her blunted daggers, throwing them up in the air and catching them. Twirling them in her fingers. A mixture of the two. It looked like she was showing off but she was just limbering up – getting loose. This was a dance Celeste was determined to lead.

“You two ready yet, or are we going to be standing here all morning?” Varric shouted in mock complaint, counting all the coin he had accumulated with a wide smile.

Aphel grinned and began with a slow circle, analysing Celeste’s stance and posture. The first blow was always the hardest, not knowing any strengths or weaknesses yet, so Aphel allowed herself time, drew her weight back, and moved for a straightforward strike to Celeste’s left shoulder.

Celeste waited until the absolute last second before side stepping the lunge, turning herself so she was side-on to the elf. Step one: make yourself a smaller target so you’re harder to hit. Not that it mattered, for the brief second Aphel’s sword was stuck in the ground Celeste had managed to swoop down lower and swing a dagger forward intending to hamstring the elven woman.

Aphel followed Celeste’s form dropping and used the weight of her sword to shift her centre of gravity, freeing her weight from her leg and raising her knee into the red-head’s face.

Unfortunately Celeste swooped to the side and Aphel’s knee swept through air. Following through, Aphel landed and spun herself, pulling the greatsword along with the momentum to slice in a wide arc as she turned.

Oh shit! Celeste dropped to the ground, narrowly missing the sword as it swung above her. There was even a whoosh of wind that slightly rustled her hair! Ok. So maybe she had underestimated the elf’s ability to swing that thing around. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

She rolled out of the sword’s reach and flipped herself back onto her feet. Shifting from side to side gave her time to think and also doubled as an attempt to make her next move unpredictable. Now, how to approach this? To attack head on would be foolish, everybody knew that… which is why she did precisely that.

She suddenly bolted straight towards Aphel and used the elf’s brief moment of shock to kick her blade to the side. Not out of her hand, but far enough out of the way she could attempt a straightforward stab at the gut.

The blade of the greatsword, thrown backwards beside her shoulder had Aphel open to the attack, but just as Celeste moved in, Aphel struck her sharply to her solar plexus with the pommel, forcing the air from Celeste’s lungs.

Whelp. That didn’t work. Celeste felt herself drop to the ground on all fours, gasping for air. She could still turn this to her advantage! She curled herself into a ball slightly, attempting to regain lost air and make herself appear as defenceless as possible. She even threw in a bit of groaning for effect. Ok so the groaning was legitimate but it was all part of her plan!

As the elf lent down with a laugh, extending her hand to help her up, Celeste swept her foot around and toppled the elf. Quickly, she grabbed one of her abandoned daggers and clambered on top of her, placing the dagger at the woman’s throat. It was a shame she was so short of breath, she couldn’t say anything witty.  

"Shit." Aphel laughed "I guess we found out who is on top."

Some in the crowd cheered and clapped while other’s cursed the maker and demanded a rematch while Varric slapped their sorry shoulders and wished them better luck next time. Feit jumped and collected his own winnings, making Varric swear to never tell his sister who he’d bet on.

Celeste rolled off Aphel and collapsed on the ground, still not having properly regained her breath. Really, if it had been a fair fight, Aphel would have won for sure.

“Only… ‘cause… I play… dirty,” she managed to spit out in between breaths.

Once her breathing had returned to normal, she got to her feet and helped the elf up, making sure her feet were firmly planted, lest she be on the receiving end of some well-deserved revenge. She looked around to the crowd and gave them all a smile and a wave.

“My adoring fans! I hope I pleased you all,” she said dramatically as she walked towards them. “As my prize for winning, I shall claim a kiss from the fairest in attendance.”

She was joking of course, she didn’t want to force herself upon anyone. But Varric laughed a little louder than everyone else and pushed Cullen forward.

“We all know who the Beauty of Skyhold is!” he began, and after receiving a glare from the man in question he continued, “Oh don’t give me that look Curly! I’ve seen the literal piles of fan mail you’ve gotten from the Orlesian nobles you wooed at Halamshiral,”

Both Celeste and Cullen blushed. Damn her and her big mouth. How was she supposed to revel in her victory now it was awkward?

Aphel handed her training weapon to a young recruit while keeping her eyes on the couple. While they paused awkwardly someone called from the crowd.

"You can kiss me my Lady!"

Cullen growled at the soldier to shut up, then blushed even harder. Celeste walked over to him and asked him “May I?”

There was a pregnant silence as Cullen gave a small nod and Celeste hooked her fingers on his pauldrons and pulled him into a quick but tender kiss.

Well… that was significantly less awful that she’d imagined. She looked up at him and for a moment it was just the two of them standing there. She parted her lips to say something to him but was cut off by some blonde elven woman whistling a cheering from up on the ramparts. Everyone else in attendance (mostly the soldiers, Varric and Bull) joined in her exuberance and Celeste looked away from him and backed away.

She cleared her throat. “So, what now? Off to breakfast?” attempting to change the subject.

Feit trundled up between his sister and Celeste, slinging an arm over each of them.

"You’ve gotten rusty Apple, you should try me next time."

"I’d rather not have to leave you with a broken leg Fey, don’t go asking for trouble." She scorned and nudged at his ribs. "Cullen and you make a charming pair Cel, he blushed even harder than yesterday…"

"Yesterday?" Feit asked but only received laughter in response

“A charming pair? You sound just like my mother! I don’t know ‘Phel, he seems like the sort that’d want to settle down… I mean can you imagine me with a kid?” Celeste laughed, "Although, I have to admit he’s kinda cute… for a Fereldan,”

“Now, now sis, mind the casual racism.” Julien joked as he and Dorian made their way over to the group.

There was a sudden commotion at the gates that attracted everyone’s attention. All of the gate guards were shouting and rushing down the ramparts with swords and shields in hand.

“What’s going on?” Cullen yelled over to them, hand resting on his own weapon.

“Unidentified rider approaching the gates. He’s alone and holds no banner!” someone shouted back.

Julien groaned. Could he not go one day without drama happening? They hadn’t even eaten yet!

“Identify yourself!” Cullen yelled out at the rider as he made his way through the few stationed guards.

Just their luck for someone to show up just as the shifts were changing over. They practically only had a skeleton crew out! Julien and Aphel decided to stand back a little, just in case things turned sour as neither of them were armed. The rider stopped just before reaching Cullen. The massive horse was panting and wheezing, like it had been running for hours without rest. Julien felt sorry for it. Perhaps Master Dennett would be able to care for the thing… so long as this didn’t break out into a fight.

“I will not harm you, just allow me to speak with your _Inquisitor_ ,” the helmet clad man practically hissed the last word.

“Not until you at least give us a name!”

“I don’t have time for this!”

The rider spurred his horse and turned around for a moment, only to come barrelling back and jumping clean over the guards, landing perfectly on the other side. Julien would be impressed if he wasn’t so terrified. That horse had a deep scar on its front leg, identifying it as Andre’s destrier: Pumpkin. The rider, in one swift movement, dismounted and landed directly in front of Julien. At least this time he was expecting the punch to the face.

Aphel jumped between Julien and the man protectively, sending them backwards with a solid punch to the gut and almost landed her elbow in their throat before Julien’s sharp call had her frozen mid swing.

"Wait! It’s my brother!"

Aphel’s eyes went wide and she recognised the surly sneer shadowed under the mud stained hood.

“How many siblings do you have, Red?” Varric said in an amused tone, sauntering over to the group. “Impressive moves there, Tatts! Took him down in one fell swoop, I’ll have to use that in one of my books.”

“Don’t mock me dwarf!” Andre snapped in between breaths.

“Don’t be so rude, Butterball, you’re talking to the Varric Tethras.” Julien said, casually wrapping an arm around the Dwarf.

Andre’s eyes lit up under the hood for a brief moment before returning to their normal state. Julien smiled impishly. He knew for a fact Andre was a massive Hard in Hightown fan. Any anger his brother felt towards him would be washed away with a signed copy of the tome.

Andre muttered an apology and cleared his throat. “I see Celeste is here. That means Father must be too. I need to speak to him… it’s about Mother” he began.

Well. This was about to get awkward.

Aphel straightened herself up and with a slight bow, gave a formal apology to Andre.

"I did not recognise you messere. I am sorry."

She decided it probably want the best time for introductions and did back up to allow the three siblings to reconnect. Then she began thinking of Gwyneth, sitting guarded in her tower and decided to go fetch the mage herself. Surely she would not want to miss the arrival.

 

Feit strode into a rather large tavern that jutted out into the upper courtyard and sat down on a stool. Fingering his pockets he discovered enough coin for a large drink and waved down the tired looking bar mistress.

"Bit early ain’t’cha boy?" She barked with the charm of a woman well bled of her patience.

“Then perhaps I should go ma’am?"

Feit chortled and the woman scoffed and took his hand of coppers.

A minstrel strummed faintly beside a still empty fire place but no other soul could be found.

 

Gwyneth was having a horrible nightmare. She was sitting at a large dining table covered with platters of a delicious looking feast– illuminated only slightly by candle light. She knew this place. Her childhood home? She looked down at herself, seeing she was a child again! She turned her head to the right and saw her twin with a blank expression on his face – dead eyes staring straight ahead into the blackness. She tried talking to him but her voice would not come. He raised a fork to his mouth. The once edible food turned to mud and bugs as it passed his lips. Disgusted, she jumped back bumping into Andre, who was seated at her left. He too had a neutral expression on his face but his eyes! His eyes were gone, replaced by gaping holes. He turned to look at her, to speak, but a thick black goo spilled out of his mouth and his eye cavities and she could feel herself scream but once again no noise escaped her. Suddenly there was movement in front of her! A woman? She couldn’t see clearly in the darkness! She was placing down a large casserole dish filled with muck and goo and bugs! And the bugs crawled out and were heading straight for her and-

She was violently shaken awake by the Templar woman, Lysette.

“Are you alright? You were tossing and turning…” she said, trying her best to hide her suspicion but ultimately failing.

Gwyneth opened her mouth to explain but there was a sharp rapping against the door.

When the door opened, Aphel, frustrated by her lack of power, spent an excessive amount of time explaining to the Templar exactly what and where and why Gwyn was needed.

Finally, after overhearing the news of Andre’s arrival, Gwyn burst through to Aphel and, still braiding her long hair, gave a warm greeting to the elf.

"It is lovely to see you so… Yourself, Gwyneth. I apologise for the… Manhandling last night."

“Oh don’t apologise, you did what you had to! I was… out of control. I appreciate what you did, I truly do,” she said with a deep bow, “Is he really here? Andre I mean?!”

 She attempted to not sound too excited but judging from the elf’s bemused expression she had failed horribly.

“I’m sorry if I seem so… eager. I haven’t seen him since… well since just before the rebellion. I’ve been meaning to send him a letter but it was so difficult! I-I was never in the same place and… and it doesn’t matter, he’s here!” she explained, finishing up her braid and pinning it.

She turned back to the Templar and thanked her for her service. She would come get her later on tonight before she went to bed.

Now that they had the time, Aphel could truly appreciate the similarities between Julien and his twin. Not only in their appearances but in their voice, expressions, and even body language.

When they trundled into the yard, now deserted but for a few straggling onlookers, it seemed Andre and Julien were having a minor row.

“You just left? What about the servants?!” Julien shouted angrily. “The Andre I knew would never stand for it!”

“I’m only one man, Julien! What was I supposed to do, die before passing on the news?!” Andre yelled back, his hood fully drawn back now.

Celeste looked pale and upset, like she’s just swallowed something sour. What was going on? Gwyneth shouted out to her brother and bolted toward him. Andre turned and his anger seemed to melt away as he extended his arms. Gwyn jumped happily into them and he swirled her around as they hugged, the both of them laughing and exchanging I-missed-you’s.

“Gwyn? I… I thought you were… we had a funeral for you!” Andre said, placing her gently down on the ground.

She smiled sheepishly.

“I’ve been meaning to write you… what’s wrong? Why do you all look so upset?”

Julien rubbed the back of his neck and looked to Andre, telling him with his expression this-ones-on-you. Celeste looked like she desperately needed a drink.

“Mother… has defected to the Venatori. The estate is completely overrun.”

 

Aphel lifted her spoon to her mouth, she felt in part too distracted with the morning’s guest and his news to enjoy the mildly spiced mushroom soup set out before her. Andre slumped, surprisingly quiet in his seat, while Gwyneth and Celeste chatted and exchanged complements. Julien still appeared tongue-tied. It had been a curt morning organising another room and armour but now that they were settled, the four siblings seemed almost expectantly hungering for some kind of mark to set the ball rolling.

And that mark came when a quiet voice chimed below the table.

"They’re all still the same."

Cole couldn’t help but be drawn to the emotional turmoil.

“Where did that voice come from?” Andre spluttered.

He stood quickly and backed away from the table, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword. A spy? Whomever that was had better show themselves! He did not want to have to crawl under there to drag them out. Cole crawled out slowly with his hands up.

“Two heads of flame, one of rich butter. Her mirror still eating on the left side, tapping the fork before skewering the food. Feels like home, before the hurt.” Cole said in his usual haunting tone.

Julien stopped his chewing and looked at Gwyneth with a raised eyebrow. She looked equal measures of confused and embarrassed. He didn’t always chew on his left side, did he? Andre looked baffled and when he made the move to draw his sword he found Julien’s hand over his, stopping him.

“He’s a friend. He does that just… don’t worry about it,” Julien said hastily. Honestly, his brother had the itchiest sword arm.

Feit scuttled out beside the boy and tucked a strange flute looking instrument into the back of his pants while he looked around nervously, not making eye contact with the tall blonde.

"Uh, hey. We were just… Oh is that buttered duck egg-toast? So is the weather always like this? It’s damned cold! I thought if we were on a mountain we would be closer to the sun. Oh look at that, your braids are so fine today, do you think you could try one in my hair?"

Feit wandered around the table, nabbing bites and then plonking down on a seat opposite Gwyneth and Cole swung himself onto the corner of table at the end.

Gwyneth smiled at Feit. “Sure thing, I can show you how to do a bunch of different styles if you like,” she said, getting a little too excited.

“If you’re cold we can organise a coat for you or something… maybe some shoes?” Julien added and he continued eating his hash browns. This time he was chewing on the right side of his mouth. Damn it, Cole had made him paranoid!

“What? Are you not bothered by this at all? You just have random people hiding under your table and you don’t even bat an eyelid?” Andre snapped, still standing up.

“Disorder. Discomfort. This armour is ill fitting. Feels wrong. Not a second skin. Can’t protect from despair, panic building”

The words spilled out of Cole’s mouth like water cascading down a mountainside. Andre blanched. Who was this kid exactly? How did he do that? He sat back down and concentrated on eating, not making eye contact with anyone sitting at the table. 

Celeste sighed and leaned over to give Andre’s hand a slight squeeze.

"Please you two, when was the last time we siblings were all together? Gwyn included? This is wonderful, no matter the circumstances. I for one can’t believe our luck."

From a distant corner of the hall a cheerful shout rang over. “Don’t you worry boss, the chargers are manning the defenses outside, you’ve got all the time you need!”

Gwyn whistled and cheered in Bulls direction, flashing him a smile and a thumbs up. Cole swung his legs back and forth, rocking slightly where he sat.

“Horns are impressive. Massive rippling muscles. Warm, comforting. Want to touch, want to feel. Curious about his siz-” Cole began but was muffled by Gwyn diving across the table to cover his mouth, her face a-flame.

Andre and Julien sighed in unison, though both for entirely different reasons.

“Of course, my apologies. Just a little jumpy after being alone on the road for so long. You are right, it’s good to have us all back together again…” Andre muttered into his porridge, apparently not having heard Cole’s comment.

Julien was too mortified to even speak. His words. His words were failing him.

"Andre, you had come at an interesting time. Your Celeste had just beaten me at a duel. What do you say to that?" Aphel spoke casually.

Andre raised an eyebrow. Your Celeste? What an odd turn of phrase.

“Not surprising, she does that. I assume she didn’t win fairly? She’s a terrible cheater I’m afraid,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Hey! That’s not true! When have I ever cheated with you?” Celeste spluttered in a disgruntled fashion.

Andre proceeded to list it off for her, “Wicked Grace. Chess. Sparring. Kayaking. Badminton. Volleyball. Diamondback. Rock climbing. Naughts and Crosses. Cross-country riding. Musical chairs-”

“How do you cheat at Musical Chairs?” Dorian asked, genuinely confused.

“She pushed me out the window to get the last spot…” Andre trailed off.

Feit began laughing his usual sweet laugh that made the air relax and those around him to become warmed by it.

"She knows how to get what she wants. That’s a skill," he said.

"Well, cheating would imply there were rules. I can’t say we agreed on any today, so she won fair-and-square." Aphel smiled broadly.

Dorian raised his eyebrows unamused and Cole began tossing blueberries up into the rafters.

“It’s not a very becoming skill of a future lady,” Andre mumbled, sipping water from his cup before adding, “And stop throwing those blueberries! They’ll get stuck up there and you’ll attract ants!”

Julien rolled his eyes. Typical stick-in-the-mud Andre. Always gotta bring down the mood. Julien reached forward to grab some more hashbrowns from the centre platter and a sharp pain shot down his arm from his shoulder. Shit!

“Are you ok, dear?” Dorian said, worry written all over his face, “Your shoulder’s still playing up isn’t it?”

Dorian grabbed a cloth napkin from the table and conjured a lump of ice in the middle of it, folding the corners in to make an ice pack. After gently undoing the top buttons on his lover’s shirt, Dorian placed the ice against the now-swollen shoulder. Andre raised an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong with his shoulder?” he asked plainly before adding, “Also, you two seem… close. You an item?”

Julien coughed awkwardly. Andre always was more… direct about his inquiries.

Dorian smiled far too sweetly and curled his fingers around the back of Julien’s neck. He’d lose it if the brother was as bad as the father, though it wouldn’t be anything he wasn’t used to by now.

Gwyneth blushed with adoration at the sight of her twin with such a person, Dorian obviously cared for Julien greatly and she could tell from their body language that they were entirely comfortable with one another in both the spiritual and physical sense.

“Ahem. I uh… dislocated it yesterday and it’s still tender after the relocation… um…”

Julien looked up at Dorian and smiled at his partners way-too-fake smile. He would have to give him something special to make up for all this judgmental bullshit his family has put him through.

“Yes. Yes we are. Is that a problem?” he asked, looking back to his older sibling.

“That depends. Does he treat you well?” Andre said, completely serious.

Julien nodded the affirmative.

“Good,” he turned his gaze to the mage, looking him dead in the eye, “You break his heart and I’ll break you, understand?”

Julien breathed a sigh of relief. He’d never told his brother about his… preferences and thus didn’t know how he would react. The acceptance was both unexpected and … heart-warming. Perhaps he wasn’t a massive jackass after all. Just a regular one.

"My, that is a scary expression." Feit whispered to Gwyneth while fumbling with the Orlesian shrimp fork that had been placed in front of him by a tawny looking server who had too much to do. "Who is that anyway? Cole wouldn’t stop yammering about some panicked stallion and too many faces."

"Hidden faces, loving eyes and secret hearts, it wasn’t meant to be forever, the safer the better but not forever."

Aphel tried to consider Cole’s words but couldn’t make heads nor tales of it and Solas was off doing some investigating in the time they had left in this world, not wanting a moment to be wasted.

"Who has hidden faces Cole?"

“That’s my older brother, Andre. He looks scary and acts like he’s grumpy all the time but he’s super nice and thoughtful once you get to know him!” Gwyn said, popping grapes into her mouth. As she chewed she tried to decipher what the boy had said. Hidden faces? Loving eyes? Could he be talking about…? “You’re talking about my mother, I assume?” she asked, turning to Cole. It was the only explanation she could think of, though admittedly she was a little out of the loop.

"Sweet words hurt the most. It was for the best, not easy but for the best. She will understand, you don’t have to keep feeling guilty." Cole tip-toed around Andre, letting his gaze wander around the buttresses while he sensed the man’s aura.

Andre felt his blood run cold and his heart stop. His body went rigid in his chair and he could feel panic raising. How did he know?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, boy. I suggest you step off unless you want another orifice in which to spout your nonsense from,” Andre snapped, placing a hand on his sword to emphasize he meant it. Who did this kid think he was? He knew nothing! Baseless assumption! 

"Hey don’t say that to Cole! He only wants to help you know." Feit growled but it was too late and the boy’s presence had disappeared from the room.

Aphel frowned and shook her head at her little brother for being tactless. Cole never said unnecessary things but that didn’t mean it was any of their business.

"Don’t worry about it Andre, why don’t we all take a drink and then go over the current problem? Unless you wish for my brother and I to leave?" Aphel asked and pulled Feit into a neck hold as she would when they were little.

Andre looked at the where the boy had disappeared. What!? How did he even do that? He felt himself shiver. Perhaps he wasn’t just a boy. Turning to the two elves, he said nothing for a moment while he swallowed his anxiety.

“No. My brother respects you enough to allow you to sit with us and so I will show you equal respect. My quarrel is not with either of you, though I would ask you not pay any attention to this ‘Cole’ and what he has to say about me.” He paused, looking to Julien and Celeste but skipping over Gwyn’s gaze, “As I was saying in the courtyard earlier: Mother has joined the Venatori and is granting them sanctuary in our estate… Perhaps ‘Joined’ is the wrong word – she told me she has always been aligned with Tevinter interests and now ‘certain opportunities’ have allowed her to show her hand. My point is, we just need Father to return home and seize control. As head of the house, if he returns she doesn’t have any claim to power.”

After wrestling himself away, Feit slumped back into his seat with a sour expression stamped across his face causing Gwyneth to chuckle and he raised his eyes to her shyly.

"I’m afraid that won’t be as easy as it sounds messere." Aphel told his calmly. "Bann Trevelyan is here, and alive, but not in the same condition he left Ostwick in."


	16. This is a mess, what were you expecting to happen?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psyche  
> Part 2/7

“What do you mean not in the same condition?” Andre snapped, slamming his hands down on the large dining table set opulently to the side of the great hall; the undamaged side.

This was bad. This really bad. Julien knew his brother and he knew when he was about to fly off the deep end. Taking a deep breath and reaching over to hold Dorian’s hand under the table, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Andre. Father used Red Lyrium on our own soldiers. They… turned into monsters, almost caused a massacre too. He, Father that is, has the stuff growing out of his face. We can’t let him leave Skyhold, it’ll spread and… he’s a danger to anyone that goes near him.” Julien said quietly, although his voice echoed in the hall, so he may as well have shouted it.

Andre felt his world crumble around him. His Father? Give into Red Lyrium? No. No his father is the kind of man who would stand vigilant against a tidal wave and tell _it_ to back down. He had will made of the toughest obsidian! He wouldn’t… how could he? What reason would he have? This made no sense! It was an impostor! It had to be! His father wouldn’t! Andre felt himself begin to shake as he felt his grip on his emotions slip. Breathing was becoming hard. He tried to breathe harder, faster but he wasn’t getting any air! Water! He needed water! He saw his hand shake violently as he leaned forward to grab a glass but he ended up just knocking it over. His heart was hammering and his chest felt like it was going to burst open. No no no no no no no NO NO NO NOT AGAIN. He barely noticed Celeste rising out of her seat and yelling for a servant to fetch some hot rosehip tea.

"Oh shit." Aphel stood quickly but was frozen in place having no way to logically proceed.

"Andre, you’re okay. I’m here, father is fine, and we’ll be fine." Celeste gently placed her hand over Andre’s shaking palms and knelt beside him. Slowly she began humming just so he could hear and by the time the server returned, almost tripping over themselves, teapot and cup in hand, Andre was breathing a little slower and Celeste combed her fingers through his golden hair.

Andre stammered and spluttered, trying to tell his sister _thank you_ and _I’m ok_ but his nerves had not returned to him. How embarrassing! Breaking down and showing weakness in front of all these strangers! He felt his sister’s hand on his cheek and knew he shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts when he was trying to calm himself. He took a sip of the tea and instantly felt astronomically better. Rosehip always did the trick. He hung his head and said nothing while he drank.

Wow. Julien had definitely not expected a panic attack! He wasn’t quite sure what to say or do. He looked to Gwyneth. She looked torn between running over to him to help and just sitting there and crying. His twin had such a big heart and he could tell by the look on her face it was breaking now. What was he going to do? He needed to pull them all together but he was no good at this!

“So we come up with a new plan. This is not the end of the world. We have gotten out of bigger messes.” Cassandra exclaimed from the other table on the far side of the room.

Feit jumped out of his seat at the woman’s voice but coughed away the small squeal.

How long had she been sitting there? Apparently long enough to see this all go down, her plate of bacon and eggs was almost cleaned up. Julien didn’t think Cass was even capable of being stealthy but there she was. 

"I’m sorry if I am intruding here Julien, but your personal troubles are also the troubles of your friends here in skyhold. Please tell me if I am over stepping but I can see this matter may be overwhelming for your brother."

Dorian squeezed Julien’s hand and nodded in agreement at Cassandra’s words.

“We all want to help you and your family dear. This can be solved with patience and a gentle… or not so gentle hand. Honestly I am sick and tired of Tevinter Magisters running about thinking they can do what they like.”

Aphel sat back down and took a long swig of the Free marcher ale and absently scratched at the dirt trapped in her gauntlets as she spoke.

"Celeste, you are the first heir, is that not so? Do you believe there is some way to gain your title? I can’t encourage you to denounce your own mother, but…"

“M-magister? Our mother isn’t an actual magister is she? I mean, she’s not even a mage!” Gwyn stammered out.

Andre kept his eyes to the ground. His heart had stopped hammering but he still felt ill-at ease.

“She… I saw her use magic, Gwyn… I wasn’t the only one who stood against her. I’m sorry Jules, but Captain Marlow is dead.”

Julien swallowed hard. Marlow? Dead?

“Why would I be sorry? I barely knew the man.” he said nervously, avoiding eye contact with both is brother and Dorian.

“Cut it out, Jules. I know you and he were friends Father told me you two were close.”

“ _Were_ being the key word in that sentence! He didn’t… hold me in the same esteem I held him.” Julien sighed, “and this is just so typical of father! It didn’t have anything to do with you, why did you need to kno-”

“Enough!” Celeste shouted finally putting her foot down.

All this talking in circles was getting them nowhere, fast!

“If she is a mage, like you say, then perhaps…” she looked to Gwyn and Julien guiltily, like she was hesitant to say her next words, “we can request help from whatever Templars or Seekers we can find, maybe they can assist us in capturing her alive.”

“I agree. If there will be a lot of mages about, having them on board will increase our odds exponentially.” Cassandra said as she moved her plate to the main table, taking the last seat next to Andre.

Now it was Aphel’s turn to panic. “Julien, Cel… I want to help you but, I have my own duties to return to. My world still turns as the days go by, I can only afford so much time here before Solas and I need to return.”

"Return? What are you talking about? To your clan?" Cassandra asked while jabbing her mead with a butter knife.

"Something like that, I… I had planned on leaving on this day but I can’t just leave my friend in this situation, and finding out more about this may in-fact be advantageous to myself in the long-term. If I calculated correctly, two months should be the longest time I can possibly stay, but I’ll need Solas to confirm this."

 “I… of course. We don’t expect you to put your own… clan at risk,” Celeste said carefully.

“If you come with us, we can help you get home from there when we’re finished. There’s someone,” he stole a quick glance at Andre, “there at your end that could help you organise transport, is there not?”

He hoped Aphel caught his meaning. It takes more than a few days to even travel to Ostwick. By the time they got there and dealt with things, he doubted they would have time to make the return trip. He just hoped they would land in or near Ostwick if they teleporting back from there.

Feit bit at his thumb and resolved to slink away before things became too serious, he went to follow the big Qunari and those buff looking soldiers out to the courtyard, he might even be able to ask about Qunari beards…

“I… I need some air. Um… I’m sorry but this is just a lot to take in right now.” Gwyn said, getting up from the table as well.

Perhaps she could watch these Chargers spar or hit each other or whatever it was that mercenaries did in their spare time. Or on duty time. Whatever. She just wanted to observe. Or talk. Or do anything that would take her mind off the fact her mother was a mage and what that meant for their relationship.

"It will all be arranged. I can’t say for sure if this is where I’m meant to be, but you’ve got me here now Red." Aphel smiled and raised her mug to Julien and all those around the group, Andre with his rose-hip tea, Celeste with her charming smile, Dorian looking thoughtfully at his partner, Cassandra and her serious brow, and from the corner of her eye a boy with a giant hat stuffing a shoe into a decorative war-horn.

“Oh? Red? You’ve been hanging out with Varric too much,” Julien laughed, taking a swig from his mug.

Julien felt Dorian’s grip on his hand tighten slightly and he turned to face him with an eyebrow raised. He could tell the mage had something on his mind, but he hadn’t the foggiest what. He wanted to ask but perhaps now wasn’t the best time…

“Regardless of the situation, we won’t be able to leave for a while. I’m afraid you rode Pumpkin almost to death, ‘Dre. She’ll need some time to rest and so do you,” Celeste said, patting her brother on the back gently.

“Pumpkin? Is… is that what you called your horse?” Cassandra said, both eyebrows raised.

Andre felt his cheeks heat up.

“S-she’s orange so I thought it was a fitting name?”

Julien was in shock. His brother, blushing? It really was the end of the world!

 

Feit tiptoed curiously over a stone dividing wall that looked over a lower courtyard where he had a raised view of a sword-wielder clashing against a dwarf with just a shield.

The Qunari stood watching over the scrapping duo with his one eye, laughing occasionally, hands folded across his chest. Without warning Gwyneth appeared beside him and Feit squawked and felt himself tip over the edge head-first.

“Oh shit! Feit!” Gwyn shrieked.

She leaned over the edge in an attempt to catch him and pull him up, but succeeded in only getting pulled down with him. She hoped the ground wasn’t too far down. Or there was some kind of hay bale or bush or something soft.

Feit was certain he had blacked out for a few moments as when he opened his eyes there was a sharp pain in his chest along with a crushing feeling.

"Ho, are you two alright? Lucky you were slowed by that old tree, though you don’t look good." The dusky voice came from a young-looking man with short cropped brown-red hair bending over them as he held his hand out to help Gwyneth up from on-top of Feit.

"That’s me, Serah Lucky." Feit coughed, certain he was bruised in at least twelve places not including the trickle of blood running down the back of his neck.

“Andraste’s flaming tits! I meant to pull you up not drop on top of you! I’m so so so so so SOOOO sorry, Feit!” Gwyneth apologized profusely.

She did a quick check of herself. No immediate injuries, looks like her elven friend here cushioned her fall.

“I… I am fine thank you” Gwyn replied to the mystery man, “Can’t say the same for him though… Feit would you like me to heal you?”

She knelt down beside him and began to examine his wounds. Nothing too serious, but there was a nasty looking scratch. If he rejected the magic, she could simply bandage it for him.

"N..no I’ll b..be fine. I just do tha..that sometimes you know, fall off things. Reminds me how precious life is." Feit’s nervous giggle turned into a groan when the pain in his diaphragm stabbed his core but he considered it quite mild compared to other falls he’d taken in the past.

Gwyneth still reached up to his head and pressed a handkerchief to the cut and Feit smiled up at her.

"Shit, how do you even fall like that?" The human asked them jovially.

“I guess I must have… startled him when I approached him earlier? I thought that if I caught his leg I could pull him up but I’m afraid my physical state isn’t nearly as impressive as yours.” Gwyn said casually, applying pressure to the cut.

The man raised his eyebrow and gave her a half-smile.

“Do you hurt anywhere else, Feit? It’s very important that you tell me if you are. I can’t help if I don’t know…”

Feit grinned and was pulled to his feet by the other man.

"Thanks friend. Really, it’s alright, it just… hurts when I breathe. I’m sure it’s nothing serious."

"Call me Krem, and that does not sound like nothing. Ignoring an injury is the first step off a steep cliff, ‘specially times like these." The human pulled Feit’s weight with an arm under his as they moved to an empty bench nearby a fire.

“It hurts when you breathe? Oh Feit that sounds absolutely serious! Please just let me heal you… I promise I’ll be quick!” Gwyneth practically begged him.

She followed and knelt down in front of Feit, placing her hands on his knees. There wouldn’t be any healing magic until he said the word, but sitting there doing nothing was hard! She’d lost too many friends in this damn war and she sure as heck wasn’t going to lose another. His injury didn’t sound life threatening but it didn’t exactly sound good! Perhaps she was being over sensitive about this and the pain would pass but she’d rather be safe than sorry.

Feeling somewhat light-headed, Feit looked down to Gwyn and took in her pale features and startling freckles, he didn’t think he’d ever seen so many or in that caramel colour. Feit blushed and nodded slightly.

"Alright… It isn’t you… honestly."

“Thank you,” she said, relieved.

She removed her hands from his knees and placed them gently on his chest. With a little concentration, she channelled her magic - willing it to heal whatever ailed him.

Feit squeezed he eyes tightly as she worked and the fear crawled across his spine and into his stomach. The magic felt like cold fingers all over him, pressing against his muscles and strangling his veins. But the sharp pain ebbed and Feit sighed, relaxed at the magic withdrew, but a thin trickle of sweat ran down his neck. Feit pulled at his tunic to wipe it away and opened his eyes.

After a few moments Gwyneth could feel no more pain coming from him and let her spell go. She looked him in the eye and smiled brightly.

“There, all done! And I know it’s not personal,” she looked down, averting her eyes, “I can tell by the way you treat me. I know a lot of people who are afraid of magic that would not even spare me a glance when they found out. Thank you for being so… accepting of me,”

"I was t..t.told I am s.sensitive, almost as th..th..though I was born a m..mage, but not quite. I can’t say for sure when I started…feeling like this around magic, who knows?" He took a deep breath "I feel a lot better though. Thanks Gwyn."

“Really?! That’s fascinating! Can you write down how you felt during the healing? I’d love to look into this some more and- oh.. sorry I’m being quite insensitive aren’t I? Never mind” she said with a sheepish smile. Honestly, she got too carried away sometimes. But still! A sensitivity to magic like that was incredible! The scholar in her was crying out to jot this down before she forgot but she didn’t want to seem too crass.

"Brilliant stuff, never seen magic like that before, shame it can’t fix your bow." Krem commented and handed Feit his long bow splintered and fractured unevenly.

"Oh…"

She smiled. Brilliant? She’d never been called brilliant before. It felt… nice.

“I’m a spirit healer, Krem. My… friend taught me how to heal more efficiently. It’s… hard to explain and I’m sure you don’t want to hear the boring details,” she began.

Most people didn’t take too kindly to Spirit Healers once they found out the specifics, as they don’t see a difference between spirits and demons. She noticed the bow and grimaced.

“Oh I’m sorry about that Feit, maybe we can find you a new one? I’m sure Skyhold has an armoury somewhere…”

"I have no idea where that is." Feit looked sadly at the old white oak bow he’d bartered from a city elf "Ahh I can’t believe my luck."

Krem shifted from leg to leg and then as if just making up his mind, he leant in to the two of them.

"I know where you can get a replacement, our Lord Julien has nabbed me and the other Chargers some great swords from the guy, along with other shit you can’t just buy. You could probably get a nice staff- err, bow, from him too, Ma’am."

“Bow? Why would I need a bow?” Gwyn asked, completely confused.

She received a flat look. Oh. He was trying to be discreet. Why would he need to be discreet here though? She was over thinking things again.

“So uh,” she cleared her throat and asked in a quieter voice, “who is this guy?”

She hoped he wasn’t too shady. The way they were acting, it was like they were about to buy some smuggled lyrium.

Krem turned and waved a hand and a few moments later the towering, muscled Qunari had sauntered over to the fire and greeted them with a deep “how’s it goin’?”

"Hey Chief, you ever see that guy who makes those fancy weapons? The high quality stuff?"

The Qunari chuckled, “Yeah, Harritt, he’s got a good hammer, would be better if he didn’t keep losing it. Who wants to know?”

Feit laughed but raised the remnants of his bow sadly and shrugged.  ”Do you think he takes requests?”

“Harritt? What an odd name…” Gwyn mused out loud.

She suddenly felt a little awkward. These three men were talking about weapons and hammers and she’d barely even been in a fight before. She wasn’t sure what she could add to the conversation. Could this Harritt even make staves? At least of the magical kind. She supposed it didn’t really matter, she didn’t need a new staff. Her circle-appointed one was upstairs and that was perfectly serviceable, if a bit boring. She realised she’d been so deep in thought she’d missed what they’d been talking about completely. They were all looking at her expectantly and she felt her face heat up.

“Um… I’m sorry, what? I... I’m afraid I missed what you said…”

"You really don’t seem like a circle mage to me, aren’t they all meant to be weirdly smart and afraid of sunlight or something." The Iron bull gave her a smirk. "I said I know where he is if you want me to take you, it’s kind of a strange spot if you don’t know where to go."

Gwyn smirked back.

“How do you know I’m not ‘weirdly smart’? You’d be crazy smart too if the only thing you could do for fun was read books! Well… maybe not the only thing,”

She paused for a moment to giggle quietly at fond memories of quick trysts in the library between Templar shifts. Ah. Simpler times. She was acting spacey again. She cleared her throat.

“And! We aren’t scared of sunlight per se just… unused to it I suppose. They keep us pretty well locked up back there. I’ll go with you guys. Not sure if I need a new staff but I’ve nothing better to do. Besides, I want to see everything here!” she said, a little too enthusiastically.

"The Iron bull will give you the tour then." He replied jokingly and shouted a quick command to his group.

Feit followed Gwyn and The Bull into the fort. They passed strange nobles with masks and jogging scouts and even the occasional grey warden. A dwarf with no beard and another arranging mosaics on a wall.

When they stumbled down into a lower cavern, Feit’s jaw dropped at the sight of a vast cave with a gaping view overlooking the snowy Frostbacks and the valleys between.

“Oh!”

Gwyn felt her jaw drop. It was beautiful! Breathtaking! She’d never seen such a beautiful vista in her entire life, not even in paintings! Her brother was so lucky to live here. To think, all this was below that hall all along.

“This… this is…” she couldn’t even form proper sentences any more.

She placed a hand over her mouth. She felt like such a tourist but this was just…. wow! She decided then and there that she wanted to see as much of the world as she could. Before now, she’d only traveled where she needed and did so under the cover of night, to avoid detection. Now… she realized how lacking she was in terms of experience. She would have to remedy that.

"Yeah. I know, right?" Bull sighed, smiling at the woman’s expression. He was sure he’d had that same look the first time he’d gone down here. "Hey there Harritt, we’ve got some requests here, from the boss. You got this, right?"

A tired looking human, dark hair balding with age, turned from his workspace and grunted at the entrants.

“From the boss, sure. Whaddya need? Reasonable stocks o’ silverite and drakestone, plenty o’ cloth, leather, should have more than enough Iron.”

Feit wandered around, investigating the vast solid stone walls and dripping icicles and then turned to face the man Harritt, giving him his best smile.

"Oh boy you look tired. Do you have any designs for a bow? Something flexible with a smooth grip, light if you can and firm joints."

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Gwyneth looked about the rest of the room. There was so much stuff in here! A forge, an anvil, a rack of various… weapons? She wasn’t sure if the metal instruments were weapons or tools of some kind.

“Of course I have bow designs! The boss has ‘em made all the time, it is his weapon of choice after all. Here’re all the schematics I ‘ave, feel free to look through ‘em and pick whichever you like.” Harritt said gruffly, handing Feit a stack of parchments before turning to Gwyn, “what about you? You need anythin’?”

Gwyn bit her lip, as she always did when having to make a choice. She could be so indecisive sometimes. She really didn’t need a new staff, but perhaps she should treat herself to a nice one? No. She had a better idea.

“Could you make me a nice, sturdy shield please? Well not for me but for my older brother? He’s pretty upset right now and I think it would make him happy. Um… I don’t really know what makes a good shield though… oh I’m bad at this,”

"Ah, well then, for a shield you’ll want paragon’s luster. Traditionally dwarven, sturdy but absorbs blows well and difficult to mark with arrows. One of the best when it comes to deflecting magic too but not so good with electricity. Add some willow weave insulation and you’ve got a good mix." Harritt scratched his head and pulled out a design for her of a curved shield scalloped along once side. "If you want any engraving you’ll have to let me know before’and."

“Engraving? You can do that? Ohhh yes! Let me just give me a moment to think of something,” she said fervidly.

She needed something meaningful. Something that would make this shield stand out against all his other ones. Think. Think. What was something special that the two of them shared? Something only they would get? Oh! Yes! She quickly pulled out the notebook and charcoal she carried with her and sketched out a simplified drawing of a Varghest.

“Could you put this on the front? Or at least something like it… i-it’s supposed to be a Varghest by the way. I’m not the best at drawing but it’s important it gets put on there! He saved me from being dragged away by one when I was younger and now I’m saving him from being hit! It fits, right? Or maybe it’s dumb, I don’t know” she stammered, shoving the paper into the man’s hands.

"Err. Sure thing." well it wasn’t the strangest request Harritt had gotten, that is to say a Rivaini woman once demanded a carving of the King Alistair naked on her Dagger hilt. He wasn’t too sure if it was treason, but she paid three times the cost so he hadn't complained.

Feit thumbed through the designs for the fourth time, settling on a very simple looking Longbow with a core of dawnstone and flexible limbs made of a light wood.

"That is beautiful. I need it."

With their orders in, Harritt shooed them away from the forge.

“You can either wait over there or you can leave and come back later. I don’t care just stay out of the way,” he grumbled, gathering what materials he needed for the bow.

Gwyneth was excited. She was practically jumping up and down on the spot, so eager for it to be finished. She couldn’t wait to hand it over to her brother! Hopefully he would like it.

“What do you guys want to do? I don’t mind staying and observing how he works but I know that probably wouldn’t be the most interesting thing in the world…”

"How about we head to the tavern? I really enjoyed the ale there, and the bard was very talented, not to mention that fellow Cole. I wonder if he went back there." Feit rambled.

"Ho, sounds like a great plan. No time to waste like the present." The Iron bull exclaimed.

“Sounds good to me, seems like forever since I’ve had a decent drink!” Gwyn laughed.

She wondered if Feit knew Cole was a spirit. She could tell straight away, could feel the fade off him. Did her elven friend’s sensitivity not pick up on it? Perhaps he ignored it? Maybe the only reason Gwyn could tell was because of her familiarity with benevolent spirits? No matter the answer to any of those questions, she hoped the boy was there. She wanted to ask him about what he'd sensed off Andre before. What did ‘Dre have to feel guilty about? Maybe if Cole told her, she could help him. She didn’t like the thought of her brother being in such pain.


	17. What a lovely way to burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psyche  
> Part 3/7

It was going on lunch-time when Feit, Gwyneth and The Iron bull waltzed into the Skyhold tavern. The building was packed, full to the brim with the hungry, thirsty, and apparently the smelly.

Feit wondered if any of the others were here, he was feeling incredibly curious about Gwyn’s twin brother and her other siblings. After craning his neck this was and that, he heard the Iron bull give a shout across the room.

"Hey there Boss! Got room for more?"

Julien and the others had migrated here after being shooed out of the great hall. Apparently, the tables needed to be cleared off for the nobles that incessantly hung around. He smiled and waved the three of them over to join in.

“Sure do, Bull! We’re in the middle of a game of Wicked Grace but we can deal you guys in next hand if you feel like losing some coin!” He shouted back, ending his sentence with a wink.

The randy players all scooted down the table to make room as Bull, Gwyn and Feit tucked themselves into the too small table. Gwyn shot a look up and down the table then frowned.

“Where’s ‘Dre?” she pouted slightly.

Her question was answered when Andre walked up to the table holding a tray of drinks, a sour expression plastered on his face. Gwyn stifled a laugh. He looked ridiculous!! All he was wearing was a frilly pink apron, a bow-tie and some super tight (was that leather?) pants. Where did they even find that ensemble?

“W-what happened?” she managed to spit out before laughing uncontrollably.

“Turns out he’s even worse at Wicked Grace than Cullen.” Dorian giggled.

“I’m not bad at Wicked Grace! You’re all cheaters!” Andre blustered.

He looked like he was going to hit somebody with that tray.

"Ma serannas Andre." Aphel chimed and snatched her drink from him. "Aneth ara, _howdy_  Fey, The Iron bull. Do you think you can play as well as your brother here Gwyn?" she continued playfully.

So far she had only lost a few silvers but she was on the path to taking them all for what they were worth. She was incredibly thankful Solas had declined to play.

Gwyn wiped tears from her eyes and calmed herself before responding.

“Oh, ‘Dre! Cheating is practically the aim of the game, no wonder you’re bad at it! You’re the most honest person I know,” she giggled smiling at him brightly.

She quirked an eyebrow at his reaction. He avoided eye contact and cleared his throat before moving around the table to serve everyone drinks. Odd. This thing Cole had mentioned must be really bothering him. She shook her head. Best to ask him about it in private.

“Oh don’t worry Aphel, I assure you I am much, much better at it then him. How do you think we used to pass time in the circle? Deal me in!” she said earnestly.

"Hah! That is a good look on you Little Red, the gambling circle mage. I’ll have to keep my eye on you." Varric Joked from the opposite end of the table.

"You’ll be smart to, dwarf. I’ll bet she can whip even you into shape." The Iron bull chuckled and Andre looked suspiciously at the Qunari.

Feit climbed across to sit beside his sister and snuck a look to her cards “err, I’ll join next round.”

Dorian and Cassandra were sat either side of Julien while Andre slumped into a shabby looking arm-chair beside a slow burning fire that was down to its embers, bringing his leg across his lap, then deciding the movement wasn’t quite possible in the tight-fitting pants that had Cassandra blushing to the enth degree.

“Little Red’? You know I was born first right? Julien’s the baby so he should be the little one.” Gwyn said, flashing her brother a cheeky smile.

Dorian laughed and whispered something she couldn’t hear into Julien’s ear. Must have been something embarrassing because her brother’s cheeks flushed a bright red and he swatted his partner several times. Maybe she didn’t want to know.

Checking her cards, she kept her face completely neutral. Not a bad hand per se but not brilliant either. She would have to make do. Glancing around the table she saw instantly who would be easy pickings. Honestly, it was like taking candy from a baby.

“I’m throwing in eight silvers,” she said tossing the coins into the centre of the table.

Varric, Cassandra, and Dorian followed Gwyn’s bet, and Cullen drew a card with a sour expression while the bull raised by three.

"Oh come ON!" Cullen whined causing the group to chuckle and Andre almost looked pleased.

"Curly you really need to learn how to lie." Varric remarked.

Aphel met the new bet and discarded one card to draw a new one.

Gwyn laughed.

“Sounds like we’ll be having another topless waiter to deliver us afternoon snacks,” she giggled, completely amused by the situation. She discarded a useless card and drew another. Not bad. Perhaps she could bluff her way to more coin.

“I will raise the bet by… four more silvers” she smirked, tossing more coin onto the pile.

Dorian swore loudly and threw his cards down in a huff. Cassandra bit her lip, thought about it for a second then also threw in her bet. Gwyn smiled. So close now, just need to strong arm the others into submission.

Celeste, Leliana and Sera were screeching with laughter and throwing knives at a board far too competitively for the liking of some other patrons who were dodging their heads reactively. Feit realised Cole was running around snatching any knives that missed, which were quite a few since the two women were close to the deep end surrounded by empty mugs.

Varric met the bet again and Cassandra raised by two, all the while exclaiming they were wasting their money on petty plays.

The Iron bull flung down his bet and then pitched back his ale and Aphel met the bet, discarded, and drew another card.

Gwyn sipped some ale from her tankard and swished it around her mouth while she thought about what to do. Should she raise again? No, that’d be too obvious. Just play it safe then. She discarded another and drew, this time getting the exact card she needed! Excellent! She let a little frown knot her brow though, to throw off the others.

“Hmmm. No raise from me this time, I’ll just meet the bet…” she said with mock worry.

Cullen smiled and raised his bet by another two silvers. Looks like her little act trapped at least one person. She almost felt sorry for the Commander.

This turn Varric chuckled as he threw in his coin and The Iron bull made his play. Cassandra had her turn and Aphel grinned and watched her pale at she turned over her last coin.

Aphel put down her bet, raising by one.

“I won’t be thrown out just yet” she remarked and discarded, drew, then shrugged, turning over the Angel of death. “Or perhaps I will, looks like the round is over. Well Curly? How much do you owe?”

Cullen squinted at her as he laid down his hand. He had one pair and nothing else. Gwyn shook her head.

“That’s… very unfortunate for you commander… read ‘em and weep!” she exclaimed, smirking slightly.

With bravado she revealed her hand. A set of four Angels cards. A winning hand… unless somebody had five of the same suit, which she doubted. She downed the rest of her ale in one gulp. Cullen looked to be in a very sour mood now. No matter what anyone else had, he had lost completely. Celeste glanced over with interest as they waited for the others to reveal their cards.

Cassandra threw her arms up with a disgusted noise and The Iron bull laughed and pointed at Cullen’s face while passing him a rather large tankard then dumped his two daggers, two snakes and a song.

Varric flipped over his 3 songs.

“You’re just as bad as that damned mabari Hawke had.”

Aphel sighed as though defeated and let her cards turn to reveal the five knights.

“*Alebas Gwyneth.”

Feit banged his head against the stained wood table and Aphel ruffled his hair while grinding his head into it

"What’s wrong *da’len?" she whispered to him smarmily.

“Andraste’s flaming butt cheeks!” Gwyn swore.

So close! She was so close to winning all that coin! She slammed her head against the table and fake-sobbed a little. She was looking forward to buying… actually now she thought about it she’d never even had that much money before. She really wouldn’t have known what to do with it all. She moved her head to look up at Aphel.

“You’re… too good! How did you… I can’t tell if you’re extremely lucky or an excellent cheat. You are soo buying the next round!” she laughed.

"And I say you get Cullen to serve it, without that pesky coat of his of course." Celeste slurred, licking her lips slightly.

How much had she had to drink? Julien wondered.

"Yeah… lucky." Feit laughed and poked his tongue out at his elder sister.

"Hey sweetie will you pour us another?" The iron bull charmed Cullen and Dorian raised his hand for more ale.

"Oi you blighted cheat! You can’t make a new target!" Celeste could be heard yelling over the tavern’s din.

Aphel swiped the silvers and slyly tucked a few into Feit’s palm and he rolled his eyes and went off to buy a cake.

Gwyn smirked and raised her mug, shaking it slightly.

“Yes, more ale sounds wonderful, Commander, do be quick about it” she said in her best haughty voice.

Cullen grumbled something about never playing Wicked Grace again and he got up to leave. Celeste suddenly appeared at the table and tsk’d him

“Uh uh, you have to take that armour off, buddy. Rules of the game! Andre here would agree I’m sure. After all it wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t have to endure the same punishment.” Celeste purred, giving the man a wink.

The commander’s face went redder than a tomato as he sighed and began unclipping the various buckles. Gwyn was surprised he was so easily swayed! A few wolf-whistles sounded out as the former-Templar dumped his chest plate onto the table with a huff before scuttling off to fetch drinks. So. Worth. It.

"Would it be overmuch of me to say I should have seen that coming?" Cassandra grunted with her chin in her hand and her other tapping away at the wood.

"Wouldn’t be the first time, Seeker." Varric told her as her shuffled the deck.

"Are you sure you want another game? I’d hate to leave you all impoverished. What about we try something different? Something you might have a chance at… say… Truth and Lies?" Aphel shrugged "one of us makes two statements and the others try to guess which is true and which the lie is. Whoever wins can choose their prize."

The game had been one Aphel had enjoyed playing on the Aravel as a child, winning the service of the other children and even the adults sometimes.

“Oooo that sounds like fun!” Gwyn giggled, clapping her hands slightly. “I’ll go first! Ummm let me see….. Oh I have it! One: I once convinced a Templar to lick whipped cream off my thigh or two: I once lost a bet and had to streak through the circle library during an exam!”

She smiled to herself at everyone’s reactions, specifically her siblings. Julien looked grossed out, Celeste looked kind of impressed and Andre just looked annoyed. Hopefully this wasn’t too… forward of her? She had wanted to lighten the mood but perhaps something more… tame would have been more appropriate.

Aphel considered for a moment, then went with her gut.

"It is true you’ve streaked during an exam. The Templar is the lie."

Gwyneth grinned.

“Wrong. The Templar is the truth. I never lose bets, in fact he was part of one that won me a new staff…”

There was silence at the table for a few moments until Bull’s hearty laugh set everyone else off.

“And how did you manage that?” he asked gleefully.

“My friend told me I couldn’t get a Templar to do anything saucy and I disagreed. So we made a bet. I stole this Templar’s helmet before he was supposed to attend some big ceremony. Told him I knew who took it but this magic whipped cream was preventing me from telling him and the only way to nullify its magic was for a Templar to lick it off. Idiot believed me.” she cackled.

“Oh ho! You’re evil!” Varric chuckled “So what’s your prize, Little Red?”

Gwyn considered it for a moment.

“Just a favour. To be cashed in later.” she smiled at Aphel.

Aphel laughed at the tale and even more at Julien’s desperate expression.

"Alright, then I will make a go of it… let me see… I can’t read and… I can speak Tevene."

Feit had come back at that moment and tripped at her words, almost losing his cake and landing with his chin to the table.

"Blast!"

“Oh Maker, are you ok Feit?” Gwyn asked, getting up from the table a little.

She was concerned for her friend, he was quite accident-prone, wasn’t he? Celeste smiled and shuffled forward in the seat she stole from Cullen.

“You can speak Tevene! The inability to read is false!”

She remembered their conversation about ancient elven books earlier, she had this one in the bag! Rubbing her hands together she planned what she was going to request as her prize…

Aphel grinned. “You got me. I suppose I’m not as good as I remembered.”

"Apple, You!! *Dareth banal? Sahlin na Isala nan?" _Is nothing sacred to you? Is this some sort of retribution?_   Feit yelled at Aphel and stormed off.

"Oh… shit…" The iron bull commented.

Aphel put her face in her hands, any words of victory died on her lips as Celeste gave Aphel a worried look.

“W-what did he say? Why is he angry?” she stammered, sobering up instantly.

Feit had seemed pretty level headed up until this point. Well at least in the absence of magic anyway. Why the sudden outburst? What was so wrong about knowing Tevene?

"He’s mad at me. I shouldn’t have said that…"

"That was a little more than mad, what did you say that he took so personally?" Asked Cassandra.

Aphel felt her heart beating in her chest as a strange fluttering of heat followed by a frightening rush of cold despair.

"I really shouldn’t tell. Actually… I’m pretty infuriated with myself right now. It… it was foolish of me to just think things would be all right."

Celeste was confused but she understood the want or need to keep things private. She wasn’t sure she could do anything that could salvage the situation. As if on cue, Cullen walked in with a tray of drinks in hand.

“I hope you’re all happy! I’m pretty sure my troops are never going to let me live this down… what happened while I was gone? Why do you all look like you’ve swallowed something sour?” the man asked.

Gwyn looked in the direction Feit stormed off in. She wanted to follow, to make sure he was ok but she wasn’t sure he wanted her to. She could end up making things worse! But he might need support and comfort. Stuck in indecision once again she just sat there, squirming a little in her seat. Bull sighed and leaned closer to her.

“C’mon, let’s go see if he’s ok,” he whispered as he got up from his seat.

Gwyn nodded and followed suit. At least one of them knew what to do.

 

Feit had climbed up the nearest tree and was angrily yanking at the leaves when The Iron Bull and Gwyn trotted up to him. He pouted at them but swung himself down anyway and leant casually with his back against the trunk and arms crossed.

"Why does Aphel always do that? She’s so… rrrgg."

Oh wow. He looked super mad. Gwyn didn’t think the elf was even capable of such ire. She stood behind Bull slightly. Not enough to be noticeable but just the right amount to duck away if things got too heated. Not that she thought Feit would hurt her. Thinking on it, her own actions confused her. Perhaps she was just doing it for comfort? She was used to Templars stepping in and sorting out any arguments anyone had in her circle so maybe it was just out of habit? Bull was certainly no Templar though… She shook her head slightly. Now was not the time for self-examination, her friend needed to vent, clearly. She would be there to listen.

“If you don’t mind me asking… what did she do to incur such a reaction out of you?” Gwyn asked carefully.

Feit considered lying, but he really didn’t want to. Besides he wasn’t very good at it.

"She knows what she did… She can be… I guess a bit manipulative at times, not because she means it, she just doesn’t really know how to be direct. So she said she didn’t know how to read. It was a dig at me… I can’t read very well…"

Feit kicked his toes into the dirt as he spoke.

"I don’t know how much they told you, but… Apple was at the conclave. And she… got hurt there."

He started kicking harder at the loosened earth, his throat began to tighten with emotion, and it was still raw, far too raw.

"We had a fight before she went. I wanted to go there for Keeper, but in the end… Apple made them send her instead of me by saying I couldn’t read. I wouldn’t be able to do a proper job."

Gwyn covered her mouth in shock. How could Aphel do such a horrible thing?! Without thinking, she rushed forward, threw her arms around Feit, pulling him in for a big hug.

“Oh that’s… that’s awful! Oh Feit!” she said as she embraced him tighter.

She wasn’t sure if she was helping but she didn’t know what else to do. She couldn’t believe his own sister would treat him so terribly! That was too cruel!

Feit was a little stunned by her embrace but funnily as his heart pounded it made him want to move closer rather than away. So he did, pushing his face into her cloak and breathing heavily to stop himself from crying.

"I killed her because I was too stupid."

Gwyn stroked his hair gently with one hand rubbed his back with the other. This… this was just breaking her heart!

“No, no, no, no don’t ever think that way, Feit! You didn’t kill her, it was her choice to go… if you must place blame anywhere, blame Corypheus! The fault is entirely his!”

It wasn’t easy to just let go of all the blame he’d built on top of himself in the past months, and after seeing Aphel alive and healthy he could almost let himself believe that she’d never really died. But said she would have to leave eventually… and go back to being dead. What then? What about… _what about me_?

"I don’t want her to go again. I don’t even care if she makes fun of me or anything, but I can’t just tell her to stay here. What am I meant to do?"

Gwyn thought back to all the things she’d learned when that … demon was inside her head. All of it recent memories and the things it’d made her do was burned into her memory forever. The demon had sensed Aphel’s great sorrow at the loss of her clan, more so the loss of her brother than any other. Now Gwyn understood why feelings of guilt and regret had been mixed with that sadness. She bit her lip. The suggestion she was about to give would not be taken lightly.

“Maybe… you could go back with her?” she said quietly.

Feit sucked in a quick breath, could he?

“I… I don’t know…" He sighed, exhausted from all the thinking and feeling. “I suppose I will find out eventually. But if she brings up that crap about my reading again I’ll dump the tavern’s dirty mop bucket water on her head!”

The Iron Bull laughed and slapped Feit’s back just a little hard “She’s already had her ass handed to her by that Dagger woman, maybe you should make a go of it?”

Feit grinned at the two of them “I think I’ve been beat up enough by Apple, thanks.”

Gwyn laughed light heartedly. She was glad he was apparently feeling better. If anyone knew how hard sibling stuff could be, it was her. She’d seen a glimpse of what Aphel’s world had been like. Julien would have died in that reality trying to find her. She bit her lip. He had died in vain, she’d been nowhere near the conclave. She swallowed the lump in her throat and smiled at the elf.

“You know, I could help you with your reading. I used to teach classes back at the circle… if you want to that is,” she paused before adding, “And that ‘dagger woman’ is my sister, Bull. She messes everyone up.”

"She has some amazing skills to knock down someone with a sword as big as that elf’s. And I know a lot about swords." The Iron Bull chimed.

"Hmmm… I guess we could, so long as you two don’t tell anybody!" Feit replied

“Good, we’ll go over the basics a little later on, perhaps tonight? And don’t worry, I know how to be discreet, your secret is safe with me!” Gwyn said with a smile.

Speaking about the time, Gwyn realized quite a lot had passed in between this chat and the card game before.

“Perhaps we should go check on Harritt? Maybe our weapons are done…” she said, absent-mindedly looking off in the direction of the main keep. She honestly could not get over how massive and open this place was.

"Heh, thanks." It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to learn. Somehow the words just never looked right. “I’d really like to see if my bow looks as good at it did on paper.”

The three of them trudged half way up the stairway, before Gwyneth became winded and had to stop for a moment.

“I’m… sorry you two. I’m not used to so many stairs… my circle was only two stories, and we hardly ever went upstairs…” Gwyn huffed, bending over slightly to brace her hands on her knees.

She felt so… unfit. She’d been up and down these stairs so many times today, her thighs were killing her! A nice hot bath would be wonderful about now. Her thoughts were interrupted by her own loud yelping when Bull unexpectedly hefted her up onto his shoulders. Reaching out quickly to grab onto his horns, she swore loudly as she wobbled a little, her body threatening to flip over backwards. A quick glance down confirmed fall from this height would probably kill her.

“Warn me next time, holy shit!” she squawked out, clinging on for dear life.

The Iron Bull and Feit cracked up at her shout which only resulted in her crying out to _stop laughing you’re shaking me!_

He let his hands hold gently around her ankles in case she fell backwards and they continued towards the undercroft, with only a few gaping stares trailing behind them.

Gwyn smiled and waved to the confused-looking guards by the throne as they passed by them. Oh ho this was actually fun! She could get used to this!

She ducked a little as they went through the door as to not whack her head on the frame. Harritt glanced up at them from his forge and wiped sweat from his brow as he backed away from it slightly.

“it’s about time you three got here! You’re orders are over there on the table. If you need any runes or anything, go see the Dwarf” he grumbled before returning to his work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aneth ara: My safe place - an informal greeting.  
> Abelas: Sorrow, Sorry  
> Da'len: Little child  
> Dareth banal? Sahlin na Isala nan?: Is nothing safe? Is this your inevitable revenge?
> 
> Thanks for reading once more! Especially to those who take the time to leave their messages for us, we truly appreciate your reviews and comments and Kudos. The title this time was snatched from a line in Peggy Lee's song "Fever". Perhaps not a match for context but we felt those particular words fit for this chapter.
> 
> ~Kim & Kill


	18. Bruises are in this season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psyche  
> Part 4/7

Feit almost cried at the beauty of the bow lain out before him; the perfectly smooth white wood, the almost seamless joining and a deliciously violet metal core that could be seen through the carved wood in the shape of a halla.

"I’m in love!"

Gwyn tapped on Bull’s horns to signal him and he reached up and let her down gently. She stepped up to the table and gasped as she laid her eyes upon the shield. It was perfect. The metal was polished to a high shine and the engraving was gorgeous. Harritt was quite the artist it seemed! He had smoothed out and improved her rendition of the Varghest. The proportions were all corrected and the pose altered slightly to be more dynamic but otherwise it was distinctly hers. She could just kiss that man for his beautiful work!

“Oh this is... this is beautiful Harritt! You’re truly an artisan! Thank you!” she said earnestly.

When she attempted to pick up the shield, the weight made her realize how much she actually lacked in physical strength. It was still possible to carry it but it required two hands. Argh! How did her brother stand carrying one of these all day?

"Now you know I just have to try this out!" Feit skidded up the steps and ran from the undercroft, leaving nothing but a track of disturbed ancient dust.

"Let me help you with that, you can’t tell me you’ve wielded a shield before." The Iron Bull smirked at Gwyn and hefted the weapon with one hand.

Gwyn pouted.

“I’ve lived in the Circle my entire life. Before we disbanded, I’d never even ridden a horse before… I really don’t know anything about weapons or shields, I’ll admit that” shrugging, she continued “But if someone gets shot in the gut with a crossbow bolt, you can bet your boots I can heal that up in less than a minute” ending her sentence with a wink.

The two of them attempted to follow Feit but there was no sign of him anywhere. Even the nobles milling about hadn’t seen him… or rather, they hadn’t paid attention to him. Gwyn sighed.

“Should we go look for him or just deliver this shield? You know this place better than I, where would he have gone?”

"Yeah... I have no idea. Could be anywhere. But how about we take a look at you with a few different weapons, maybe see what suits you? You don’t look like the type of woman who’ll be satisfied to sit in a tower for the rest of your life, am I wrong?"

The Iron Bull had noticed something about her, almost like a flame being lit. It made her eyes brighten and her features sharpen like a fledgling spreading its wings.

She looked at him with surprise. Her? With a weapon? Could she even use one? Her arms were so weak, she could barely lift a bed and move it without help. Still he had a point. After all this adventure there was no way she was going to just go back to the Circle. There were too many things to see and people to meet. Perhaps this was a golden opportunity to get some experience under her belt.

“I would like that. I’m not sure if I’ll be strong enough but I would like to at least try.” she said with a smile.

With the elf missing, it was just the two of them and The Iron Bull was pleased by her smile as he recanted various battles he’d championed. Taking particular enjoyment from her expression when he told her of the high dragon they’d run into nesting inside a snowy colosseum. It didn’t take long before they’d made their trek back to the jolly chargers.

All of these amazing stories sent Gwyn’s heart racing a million miles an hour. Such adventure! She hoped she’d have some exciting tales she could tell one day. All of the Chargers stopped what they were doing and turned as the two of them walked over. Introductions were made and pleasantries exchanged. They all seemed like wonderful, interesting people! Bull dismissed them all and they returned to their sparring or chatting. The two of them walked over to a weapon rack and Bull waved a hand, signalling for her to pick one. She immediately went to pick up a short sword with both hands and succeeded in lifting it.

“How about this? It’s a little clunky but… It doesn’t suit me at all, does it?” she pouted.  

"Not quite your style, Gwyn" The Bull laughed and watched her attempt to swat at a wooden dummy sprouting at an angle from the ground. "You’re a mage, so you’re used to holding a staff right? Your stance needs a little work, but why don’t you try one of these?"

Pulling up a light-weight spear with wrapped hand grips, he handed it to her and grabbed his own.

"Have a go with that one. Come at me."

Gwyn weighed the spear up in her hands. Not bad, very similar to her current staff actually though the balance was slightly off at the top. She twirled it around in her hands for a bit, to become accustomed to the weight. She wasn’t quite sure how to go about this. Attacking close range with a staff was nothing she’d ever tried before. How was she supposed to swing it? Is the blade on this blunted? She didn’t want to hurt him on accident. Oh to hell with it! She was here to learn and thus mistakes were to be expected. The Iron Bull was likely to laugh at her if she messed up but it was all well intentioned.

With a quick flick of her wrist she whipped the spear out in an arc, barely scraping Bull’s arm as he deflected the blow to the side with ease. She quickly reversed her grip, spun it in her hand slightly and smacked his arm weakly with the blunt end when he went to follow through. Completely ineffectual and probably the total wrong thing to do. She really had no idea what she was doing.

“Uh… well that was supremely unimpressive on my part,” she said with a sheepish smile

"Hah, for someone who has never raised even a sword before, you’re all right. Don’t stop now Gwyn, I’ll be your personal coach."

~ 

In the tavern, Aphel leaned back on her chair and tried to figure out exactly why she had said what she did. Was she upset at him? He hadn’t done anything, could it be the stress of the past couple of days? That was quite possible. In honesty she realised she had begun feeling annoyed, even angry. But why? What was making her feel this way? Had she wanted to remind him of his part in her fate? The reason, she supposed, that she’d been cursed with the anchor, glowing constantly a sickly green? But it wasn’t like that at all… It made no sense. She wasn’t making sense. She groaned in frustration at herself and kicked at the table, unknowingly pushing herself too far at an angle and her stomach bottomed out as she fell flat on her back with a jarring crash.

Julien visibly cringed at sound of Aphel groaning and the loud banging sound that followed. What was it with warriors in particular feeling the need to kick at things all the time? Andre had done what she just did many a time in the past, he was far too used to it by now. He got up slightly and leaned over the table to peer at her. With her hands over her face he couldn’t tell what she was feeling. Best to treat this with caution then. After all, he had no idea how she dealt with anger or frustration.

“You… alright there?” he said carefully.

She felt the weight of gravity on top of her and wondered if she could fall through the earth. Hell, it couldn’t be impossible.

"Have you ever done something to your sibling, only later to realise how awfully you’ve fucked up but you can never take it back let alone explain why you did it? Scratch that, do me a favour and fetch a giant to crush me right now. I’ll wait."

Julien opened his mouth to say something when he was cut off by Andre.

“I have done something similar. You make it up to them or you learn to live with it,” he said as he got out of his chair to walk over to the fallen elf and held out a hand to help her up, “Self-pity isn’t the answer.”

Julien scoffed.

“You’re one to talk. Perhaps you should practice what you preach.”

That earned him one of Andre’s famous death-glares. The man had elected to go with the second option - learning to live with it. If Gwyn found out… he couldn’t bear the thought of being on the receiving end of her disappointment. He wasn’t sure what Aphel had done but he hoped it wasn’t so dire she couldn’t find a way to patch things up with her brother.

Aphel stood face to chest with Andre but she could see that she had utterly underestimated him before.

"Would time travelling magic be too much to ask for?" Aphel pouted

Julien laughed loudly.

“Yes, because that turned out so well last time,” he said sarcastically, sipping the now-warm ale from his tankard.

Andre exchanged thoroughly confused looks between the two of them. What were they on about? A shared jest? No it didn’t seem like it, Julien’s expression now was too … straight-faced.

“Time magic? I can’t tell if you’re being serious or you're both insane.”

“It’s best not to ask, less headaches that way.” Dorian added.

Once again Aphel was losing her edge and venting her anger at them.

"Typically too-much-to-ask is part of the job description as Herald. What stupid part of my brain had the idea that it would be easier to be a big sister?" Aphel rolled her eyes and hefted up her fallen chair. "I really need something to hit right now. Well Andre, may I ask how you intend to deal with your _problem?_ It seems to me living with it has not worked out so well for you." It had stunned her when Julien told her about Andre’s betrayal of Gwyneth and made her sick to see the lasting result of that in Julien, being forced to live separate from his twin.

Andre bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from just exploding. How dare she! Did she even know what she was talking about?

“My ‘problem’ is none of your concern. At least I haven’t inexplicably angered and embarrassed my sibling in front of everyone here,” he snapped.

Julien stood straight up and glared at his brother.

“That’s enough, butterball! Ease up on the-”

“What have I told you about calling me that?! Do you not understand simple requests? Shall I have it tattooed onto your head as a constant reminder, you dimwit?”

Julien held his tongue. His brother was getting to some pretty high anger levels here. They all needed to be careful, lest this tavern end up completely torn apart and set on fire.

“Perhaps you should go out to the training yard to work out your frustrations. Then at least you can direct that anger at something that’s designed to be a punching bag.” Dorian chimed in, turning the snark up to full.

Julien swatted him and shook his head angrily. He was not helping the situation at all!

"Do not shout at Julien! He is your superior here. And I know full well the depth of _your_ sin, _Butterball_.” Aphel could almost feel the burning coming from the man’s eyes, but it was too easy to send her own self-loathing flaring right back at him. “You would do well to remind yourself that Gwyneth wasn’t the only one you betrayed by separating those twins!”

Cole looked as though he was going to climb up the wall and Cassandra and Cullen about to call in a guard.

Oh shit! Oh shit! Julien signalled to the others to get away from the table before the storm hit. Aphel really shouldn’t have said that! He could see his brother physically trembling with rage. He hadn’t seen him this angry in a long, long, long time!

Andre felt his anger reach its boiling point. The gall! Was this woman eager for a fight? Because that’s what she was about to get! He let out a deep guttural growl as he grabbed a nearby chair and went to swing it at the elf. He was stopped mid arc by the sound of Josephine’s voice from the doorway.

“Lord Trevelyan has woken and is requesting an audien- Andre? Andre Trevelyan?” she said with disbelief, covering her mouth in surprise. Shouldn’t he be back at his family’s estate?

Andre’s anger drained immediately and was replaced with an equal mix of shame and shock.

“L-Lady Montilyet? I-I didn’t-” he dropped the chair immediately, “I didn’t know you were here! Do you work for the Inquisition?”

Dammit, Aphel had really wanted him to hit her. Instead she lowered her fist, nodding to Josephine as she picked up Feit’s forgotten piece of cake, still waiting to be eaten.

“I do. As an Ambassador. I haven’t seen you since Lady Lucille’s last soiree, how have you been? I see you still have the issues with your… passion reaching critical mass.” She said with a smile, walking over to the group.

Andre felt himself struggling to find the words to reply so instead he gave her a lopsided smile with a shrug.

“So much for the Trevelyan motto, huh?” he said, calmly sitting back down in his seat, “Modest in temper, bold in deed.”

Josephine gave him a dead pan look and he sighed and turned to Aphel.

“I apologize for my poor behaviour and short fuse. I had no right to comment on your family business when my own is… well how it is. It was a sore topic and I responded abhorrently,” he said, keeping eye contact with the elf to show he meant it.

With some hesitation Aphel let her shoulders drop. “As… am I, messere. But… If you do find yourself with a free moment, I would enjoy testing your skills as I did Celeste. Perhaps after we have set off tomorrow.”

She lifted the rather sad looking cake and wandered out of the tavern to search for her brother. She’d been stupid, so very very stupid, and Feit deserved more.

 ~

“Shit!” Gwyneth swore as Bull knocked the spear out of her hands. Again.

She was doing better but exhaustion and fatigue were beginning to set in. Bull hadn’t even broken a sweat yet. She sighed.

“Perhaps we can stop here for the day? My arms feel like they’re going to drop off!” she whined.

“C’mon Gwyn don’t give up on me now.” The Iron Bull charmed, looking buzzed from the exercise until he properly examined her flushed face. “Ahh alright. I’ll take you for a snack."

As she wiped the sweat from her brow she glanced up to the top level of Skyhold and saw Aphel walking by herself. Curious.

“Do you think she’s going to apologize to Feit?” she said, pointing her out.

"Hmm. I really don’t know her well enough to tell you, but she seems pretty close to the boss, he’s a decent judge of character."

The Bull caught the butt of her spear and hooked it back onto the rack beside his own.

“I hope she is… I can’t stand to see siblings torn apart like this,” she said quietly, more to herself than Bull.

She dusted herself off and huffed. Her muscles were aching so badly. Perhaps a few stretches before they left would help. She bent forward to touch her toes but couldn’t quite reach. Typical. Sighing she stood upright again and just did a few simple arm stretches then arched her back out to realign her spine. Sighing she let herself go, relaxing slightly. She supposed she felt a little better, though she wasn’t sure if that was from the stretching or from just not moving so much.

“Wanna go raid the kitchen again?” she said with a devilish grin.

The Bull raised his eyebrows at her stretching and smirked appreciatively but decided not to comment on it.

"You’re a little pantry thief. I hope you know what you’re getting into, the cooks here are pretty high-strung keeping so many fed every day."

“Yeah, yeah, it was the same deal back at the circle. They won’t miss a little bit of watermelon here and a little cheesecake there. It’s all about how much you take! You take a little of a lot of things and they are less likely to notice!” she grandstanded.

Thief was such a strong word. She was more of a pantry… forager. One had to search for the finer eats. And besides, everyone knew the cooks kept the best stuff for themselves! She was simply relieving them of the stuff they stole from the public. At least that was how it was in the Circle. She didn’t know about here.

“Or if you aren’t brave enough, I guess we could just get food like the regulars here. It’s up to you. I don’t mind as long as I get food in this empty stomach of mine,” she said, patting her belly a little.

Her stomach growled as the words left her lips, almost as if on cue. She smiled sheepishly.

"Oh you’re worried I’m not brave enough? I’ll be alright if you protect me with those muscles of yours, promise?" The Bull laughed as they began heading to the somewhat out of the way kitchen side entrance.

Gwyn flexed her non-existent muscles.

“Don’t worry, these babies can fend off any scullery maid that comes after you with a broom, I promise,” she said with a wink. Gwyn smirked to herself as she followed behind him. Reverse psychology. Works every time.

They stopped outside the kitchen door and Gwyn put her ear to it, trying to hear if anyone was in there. It didn’t sound like it but she was probably the worst person to ask. Julien was the one with keen hearing, not her. She shrugged.

“Well. It’s now or never. How about you go first?

"Oh, yeah. I’ll be way less conspicuous.” He rolled his eyes.

The Iron Bull slowly stepped into the dark scullery lit by two stone ovens burning slowly with the scent of roasting vegetables and stewing meats thickened the air.

"Coast is clear Gwyn."

“Perhaps not less conspicuous, but you’re known around here well enough to bluff your way out of it without a guard being called,” she whispered back.

Slipping into the room quickly, she ‘cased the joint’. Ok. Since they were preparing what seemed to be dinner, she shouldn’t grab any of the vegetables left out – they’ll notice if they go missing. Not that she would have anyway. Raw vegetables? Gross. Nipping into the pantry she grabbed a loaf of bread, a small cheese wheel, various berries, a few tasty looking custard tarts and some cooking wine (well it was better than no wine, right?) before she returned to Bull’s side.

“C’mon, let’s find somewhere to eat this!” she giggled excitedly.

Swiftly they moved through the dusty halls and found a spot to sit surrounded by shelves of various different ales. The room was cramped and when he sat down his horns caused a shelf to wobble dangerously.

"I think we chose the smallest room in this entire fort," he told her, trying not to make any sudden movements.

Gwyn stifled a laugh and got up to take the bottles off the shelf. After stacking them neatly on top of a crate off to the side, she returned to her spot and pulled the cork out of the wine bottle with her teeth. She took a big swig of it then handed the bottle to Bull. It didn’t taste bad per se just… salty. Still she’d had worse.

“Now, do you want to start with the fruit or tarts? Or both! Oh man this is the best!” she said gleefully. Stol- er _acquired_ food was the best food!

 ~

Feit decided it was fine. It was all fine. He’d climbed up to an unused rampart and began launching twigs over the wall into the valleys below. The string felt good on his fingers, he could smell the rawness every time he drew it back to his mouth.

Caring about things just made them all too complicated, he decided. Whatever happened, he was the one who would get to decide how he felt. No one else would be allowed to make him hurt…

"Fey…"

Shit… not so easily done it seemed. Notching another twig, Feit took a deep breath and aimed high.

"Din ma" _Don't want to see you._

"Oh come on Fey. I know you hate me but at least let me talk to you," Aphel sat on the wall and looked out over the upper courtyard, "I have your cake."

"Emma nae halam."  _I'm not done._

The wind began to blow hard and the two elves found their hair being whipped about furiously. It was as if the universe itself could sense the tension between the siblings and was responding accordingly. The hard wind was deafening and killed any chance of exchanging words so long as it kept up like this, giving both of them a chance to gather their thoughts and decipher their feelings.

Feit lowered the bow and turned to sit beside her. Would it be better if he told her the things he’d felt? The things he’d feared and been haunted by while she was dead?

"Ar tu’va ma…  Apple… venvir din’an."  _I killed you Apple, my Apple..._

"Fey… nae… Is that what you were thinking?"

The day before he had taken on the task of spying on the conclave, Feit had been so excited to go on his first task alone. He’d never been trusted till then with his record of running off without notice and having to be tracked down by Cypress. Even Aphel had felt the utter betrayal in his expression when she spoke up to keeper to have him held back. At the time, she was desperate to stop him, keep him safe for once. Who knew what would happen when someone like Feit was surrounded by mages and Templars, with his luck she feared a natural disaster.

But strangely enough, she didn’t regret her actions, it had saved his life after all. It was only the expression on his face now that she regretted. The guilt he had been carrying. Why in Mythal’s name was she so stupid?

He looked worn out.

"You said it yourself. I can’t do a proper job, so you went and you… _she_ died."

"Fey look at me," Aphel reached for his shoulder but he pulled away. "I’m so sorry you thought it was your fault, but I would do the same thing a thousand times if it means keeping you safe. *Aphel din’enansal, dar atisha. You know me, now look at me and tell me I’m not an arrogant river-slug?"

Feit wouldn’t look. Instead turning further till his back was completely facing her.

"Come on… I’m a big mud fish and you know it. I know it. I always find a way to have things my way, you couldn’t have stopped me if you tried.”

Aphel lifted the cake and hovered it over his shoulder.

"Ma'lin Fey. My fairy. I’m sorry you’ve been hurting because of me. But I’m here now, I’m still a bit of a slug, but I need you."

Feit was dying holding in his laughter at her, trying so hard now she thought he was upset.

"Well… I suppose…" He turned and quickly flicked his hand up, smashing the cake right into her face.

“Hey, have you two seen Gwy- oh Maker,” Celeste began, peeking over the edge as she tried to climb up onto the rampart.

She broke out into gut-busting laughter, her entire body shook violently under the stress. Aphel’s face was completely covered in cake. As in not a single spot was clean. Celeste had to hand it to him, Feit had pretty good coverage. The little twist before he pulled the plate away was a nice touch too! And the look on her face! Priceless!

“What’s going on? Stop laughing so hard! You’re making it difficult to keep hold of you,” Cullen grumbled from below, trying his best to keep a solid grip on her feet as he held her up.

How had those elves even gotten up this high by themselves?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Din ma: Not you  
> Emma nae halam: I'm not finished  
> Ar tu'va ma... Apple... venvir din'an: I killed you…my Apple…  
> Aphel din'enansal, dar atisha: Aphel sacrificed herself, she is at peace  
> Ma'lin: my blood/sibling
> 
> +Just adding a disclaimer here, while the wiki on Elvish is used in reference, the sentences are made up by Kill. It is in no way perfect so if you have suggestions to make the grammar more correct, please drop a message in the comments.+
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> ~Kim and Kill


	19. Cheese, Booze and Lyrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psyche  
> Part 5/7

Feit was bent over with laughter at Aphel’s glaring expression, so breathless that didn’t notice her trudging over to heft him up over her shoulder.

"Ahh!"

"Where is The iron bull? I have a new recruit for him to whip into shape." Aphel announced in a tone far too serious for someone with cheese cake on their face.

Jumping down beside Cullen, the commander almost lost his balance at the sight.

Celeste tried to calm her boisterous laughter but both Aphel and Cullen’s expressions from up here were just too funny. Her stomach began to ache and at this point she’d pretty much lost control of her body. The hands that were gripping onto the top of the wall left their places and shot to hold her sides. She realised a little too late this was the complete wrong thing to do as she felt her balance shift and her body drop. She let out a little yelp before landing safely into Cullen’s arms. Good thing he was paying attention. The look of utter concern on his face made Celeste feel a little bad but then she saw Aphel again and her laughter began anew.

Rolling his eyes and setting Celeste back down on the ground Cullen turned to Aphel, succeeding in keeping a straight face as he spoke.

“No one knows. The last time anyone saw him, he was heading off somewhere with Gwyneth. We came to find you two to ask if you’d seen her…”

Feit stull wriggled and snorted with his choking laughter and Aphel pulled at the side of his tunic to wipe at her face.

"HEY DON’t…HAHAHhahahah don’ttttt mess up my...pfffahahahah!" Feit choked on his argument.

Aphel growled at him like a mother bear chiding her cub.

"I am going to work you so hard you won’t be able to draw that bow for a week!"

Well at least thing were back to normal. In spite of her humiliation, Aphel felt in control of her anger, of herself again. And it was a relief.

Celeste pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and walked over to Aphel, grabbing her face gently to turn her head. Carefully, she wiped up the rest of the cheesecake, all while stifling her laughter.

“There, now it’s all gone,” she said with a smile, “but now we’re back to square one. If you guys don’t know where they are then we’re at a complete loss! We need Gwyn to be with us when we talk to-”

She cut herself off. This whole ordeal was starting to wear on her. She was just… so tired. Tired of the family feuds. Tired of all the stress and pressure. Just… exhausted really. If only time magic were possible, she’d have stopped herself from suggesting this entire trip and everything would still be fine. She sighed as she dropped her hands to her sides, tucking the handkerchief into a pocket quickly.

“My father. He wants to talk to us and… and she needs to be there.”

Celeste’s expression was grim and it hit Aphel like a punch to the gut.

"Cel, let me come with you." gently running her free hand on Celeste’s shoulder with enough pressure to tell her that she was there for her. “If not me then at least bring Curly. He has a good arm on him.”

Celeste smiled weakly.

“I… I would like it if you both came actually. You two are familiar with the… mental effects Red Lyrium has on people. Perhaps it would be best if there were as many swords in the room as possible.” She said grimly, reaching up and patting Aphel’s hand appreciatively.

She loved her Father, she truly did but what he had done to himself had changed her perception of him. She honestly didn’t know what to expect from him now and that scared her more than anything else.

“I haven’t talked to the others about it yet but… I think it might be for the best if we don’t tell him about mother. It would… it would destroy him. Say what you will about what he’s done or how he acts but don’t doubt for a minute he truly loves her. If he were to hear about her true loyalties… I shudder to think of how he’d react.” she said sadly.

Aphel smiled “I understand. It is your decision Cel. Well perhaps we should send a search party? Do you have any idea where those two could have gone, Feit?”

"Argh put me down!"

Aphel sighed and lowered him.

"Yeah I don’t know. We had just got the new weapons when I left. Does that help at all?"

Celeste massaged the bridge of her nose, tired from all of this.

“I… I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t really know her that well any more. She’s changed quite a lot since I last saw her… Argh this is so frustrating!” she grumbled, running a hand through her hair.

When she thought about it for a second, the Gwyn she knew back in the day was a total troublemaker! Wayyy worse than Julien! Always stealing food from the kitchen or playing pranks on various house guests but she seemed to have grown out of that completely. Honestly, Celeste didn’t even know what her hobbies were or what her favourite food was. She felt like a terrible sister.

“I guess all we can do is wander around and look for her. We know she’s not in the buildings surrounding the Tavern or up on the ramparts, Cullen and I just finished checking up here. So I guess that leaves the stables and the inside of Skyhold itself…”

Feit strolled ahead of them, complaining just loud enough that he was being conscripted, enlisted against his will while the three in back rolled their eyes.

 

* * *

 

Gwyn rolled onto her back and patted her stomach. So full! Who’d have thought that little amount of food would be so filling? This was nice. Being out of the way of everyone and just… relaxing in the quiet. She was almost completely sure Bull was nowhere near being full but he didn’t seem to mind too much.

“Oh boy… I don’t think I’ll be able to move for a good while” she laughed.

"You did well there, almost expected you to pass out a couple times." The iron bull took a swig from another bottle of ale removed from the shelf. "Did you learn that in the circle too? How to put away almost an entire cheese wheel? Why is there so much cheese around here anyway? I found some hanging in a lamp the other night."

Gwyn laughed loudly and reached over to grab a bottle for herself, uncorking it and sculling most of its contents. Yuck! She spluttered and coughed and glanced at the label.

“Alvardo’s Bathtub Boot Screech? How does that sound even remotely good?” she said, shrugging her shoulders and drinking more of it before continuing, “In the Circle, you learn to take whatever joy you can, when you can. If that means eating an entire cheese wheel, you’d best learn to keep it down.”

She scrunched up her nose at the taste of this liquid. It really was quite awful. How long had it been sitting here? So she offered some to Bull, grin plastered on her face.

“Care for some? But yeah, if it’s one thing I’ve noticed out here in the ‘real world’ it’s that people store their cheese in some pretty odd places… hanging in a lamp you say? What would possess someone to put it there of all places? Honestly,” she said with a chuckle.

His laugh rumbled, shoulders shaking against the dry-mortar and stone. For someone whose life had been so constricted, Gwyn was sure witty about it. If it hadn’t been for her magic, she could have done a lot of things, gone a lot of places.

“I get that. It’s simple. If you’ll wanna keep that down though you’d better rethink drinking this horse-piss.”

The bull tipped the last of the burning liquid that tasted close enough like feet down his throat and dumped the empty bottle.

"Let’s head out, my neck can’t handle too much more of this."

Gwyn nodded with a chortle and rose to her feet, trying her best to ignore the way the room seemed to be moving from side to side slightly. Yep. The room was doing that, not her. She bumbled toward the door and opened it slowly, poking her head out the door to check if there was anyone out there. Nope. Not a soul in sight.

“Coast is clear, captain!” she said with a mock salute before slipping out of the room.

"That it is." The bull smiled at her and decided to help her as she swayed and lifted her into his arms. "I think it might be a little easier like this."

They followed their footsteps back and turned onto a staircase that lead them up and into the main hall of skyhold.

“You’re slowly becoming my preferred mount it seems,” she said, playfully swatting his arm and smiling at him.

To be honest, she really liked this - Bull carrying her like she weighed nothing. Gwyn knew she wasn’t exactly the lightest woman in the world but with Bull it didn’t matter. His actions were completely effortless and she revelled in it. She shifted her weight and relaxed into his arms properly. Yeah, she could get used to this.

The Iron bull simply chuckled at her choice of words and ignored the blood that rushed to certain places when certain imaged flashed through his mind while he felt the weight of her deliciously rounded thighs and the light touch of her delicate fingers on his chest.

“Gwyn! There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere! Where have you been?” Andre shouted out from the garden entrance of the hall.

He jogged over quickly with a concerned look on his face, reaching out to place a hand on her leg.

“I-Is she alright? Did she get hurt?” he spluttered out.

Gwyn buried her face into Bulls shoulder and let out a fake groan, smiling secretly to herself. She knew her brother was a totally worry wart but she couldn’t resist messing with him a little. She just hoped Bull would play along.

Heh, she was such a sneak. He liked it.

"I don’t know, she was swaying and talking about cheese. She must have drank something." The iron bull let himself appear worried.

Andre’s expression changed from slightly concerned to full blown anxiety.

“She drank something weird? What was it? Where did she get it? How long ago was this? Has she thrown up yet? What’s her temperature? Was the swaying really bad? Did she slur her words at all? Where did you find her?” he said completely panicked, pacing back and forth on the spot.

Gwyn groaned loudly again and stifled a laugh. Oh this was so cruel but so much fun at the same time!

“Oh… oh my stomach! Oh the pain!” she said over dramatically, her words muffled.

"You know, I’m not a doctor" Bull replied "But I’m pretty sure booze isn’t life-threatening."

Andre stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at Gwyn, his worry disappearing entirely.

“It’s just alcohol? So you’ve spent this entire time drinking? Maker, Gwyn you had me worried! Argh! You-!” he gritted his teeth and slowing his breathing in an attempt to calm himself.

Gwyn turned to him and grinned devilishly.

“Hehehehe sorry ‘Dre I couldn’t help myself! You make yourself such an easy target!” she giggled.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. His sister would likely drive him to an early grave with her… antics.

“Well, I hope you aren’t too drunk because we have an audience with Father. Everyone’s been looking all over for you!”

Gwyn’s shoulders slumped in Bulls arms. Oh. She wasn’t sure if she even wanted to see him after all of this. The things he had said about her to the demon… she didn’t even know if he was aware she could hear him at the time.

“Sorry to be a hindrance to you all. C’mon, let’s go,” she exhaled, climbing out of Bulls arms carefully.

 

* * *

 

The decent into the holding cells was a long one but Aphel felt safe with her Greatsword weighing on her shoulders. Feit had stayed behind while Cullen, Celeste, Julien, Dorian, and Gwyneth marched grimly to the rubble filled cells.

Julien could feel the anxiety and uneasiness creep back into him. He was hoping to avoid talking to the man for as long as possible. Even as a prisoner, it seemed his Father still commanded obedience. He could have just rejected him out right and went go see him when he was ready to but it didn’t seem right. He looked to each of his siblings. Gwyn was avoiding eye-contact with everyone, Andre was filled with steely resolve, as usual and Celeste looked pale - like she wanted to throw up. This was probably going to be as horrible as he imagined. He sucked in a deep breath as he passed over the threshold into the large, open space where the cells were.

There was about a dozen guards surrounding the far cell on the left. As they marched over to it, Julien could hear the blood roaring in his head as his heartbeat increased tenfold. Best to get this over and done with yes?

He looked terrible. The Red Lyrium growing out of his face had been ground off slightly – like his father had attempted to get rid of it himself by grinding it against the cell wall. There were cracks in his skin where lyrium had surged out from the main crystal and his eyes. Oh maker his eyes! They were no longer the deep Trevelyan-green the man was once so proud of. Now they glowed a demonic looking intense red. Julien didn’t think the effects would hit him this badly, this quickly.

“It’s a stronger form of Red Lyrium than we’re used to. This sample appears as though it’s been concentrated.” Dagna said, stepping forward from the group of guards “But Lord Trevelyan here has been very helpful with answering any questions I’ve thrown at him”

The Bann sat in listless silence against the far wall but held his gaze towards his children, which softened slightly at the sight of Gwyneth.

“I’m glad to see you were spared the brand, Gwyneth,” he smiled softly at her before continuing, “Look at all of you. My children. To see you all together again… I wish it were under better circumstances. But why you are here, Andre? I thought I left the estate in the care of yourself and your mother.”

His voice sounded so rough. Like he had the driest throat in the world or perhaps more likely, he had smaller crystals growing along the inside. The four of them stood in silence. It was… hard to see him like this. Andre stepped forward slightly so he was right up against the bars, head held high.

“Father. I would like to know what caused you to act so… drastically. This is not like you! You aren’t reckless! Are you even my father, or are you perhaps a demon masquerading?!” he said, getting more heated and upset as he went.

Celeste bit her lip and reached out to hold Aphel’s hand, squeezing it slightly. She knew she should stop her brother but she was frozen in repulsion. She… she didn’t want to get any closer to the Lyrium.

Aphel squeezed back to comfort her and snuck her arm around her waist.

“It… hurts to speak so I will leave the task of explaining to Julien. He knows. I called you all down here to tell you-” he paused as be breathed in weakly. “The demon spoke of allies elsewhere. It did not say who or where but this whole business is not over. You must send your spies out to-”

“We already know who this ally is Father,” Gwyneth started, despair evident in her voice while walking up next to her brother, “I was fully aware of the world around me when I was possessed.”

Lord Trevelyan recoiled at the venom in her tone, then looked away from her, ashamed.

“The things you said about me were hurtful, Father, but I understand your fear. I want you to know that I forgive you and I hope you can do the same for me. It’s my fault this happened to you, I allowed the demon to take hold. I-If I hadn’t,” she shook her head, “It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done and I think you deserve to know. Mother is a Tevinter spy and a mage, she must have been this contact you spoke of.”

You could see the exact moment Lord Trevelyan’s heart broke. The man visibly crumbled. His shoulders slumped and he brought his hands to his face.

“My entire life has been for naught, then? And I snapped at you earlier for harbouring Tevinter snakes when I had one at my side all along. You must think me a fool.”

For the moment their voices pooled in a pregnant silence broken by the laboured and rippling sobs of the father facing the judgment of his children.

Andre felt the image of a shining Lord become nothing but a shattered portrait in his heart and Celeste saw herself falling into the jaws of responsibility with the foundations stripped from beneath her.

Gwyneth spilt her hearts truth in those words but a hidden truth still lurked. Her mother… A mage… A sense of abandonment, a wound never truly healed became raw and aching.

Julien drew in a shaky breath and swallowed the lump in his throat. This felt like some horrible nightmare. He needed to wake up! He needed to wake up now and everything would go back to the way it was before! He didn’t want to see his father or his siblings like this! How had they fallen to such a low point? Julien felt his eyes sting as tears threatened to spill. Dorian’s fingers met his own and he felt the mage lace them together gently, squeezing them tightly for comfort.

“We’re leaving to go to her on the morrow. I will… I will try to spare her but if she refuses to yield I’ll… I’ll make sure it’s painless.” he said sadly.

Celeste let out a loud sob as she broke down, turning to bury her face into Cullen’s coat as her body heaved with her crying. Julien squeezed his eyes shut. That didn’t go down well.

“Father. I can see you are suffering greatly. I… I can make it quick. If you’d prefer.” Andre offered grimly, hand moving to rest on the sword at his hip. The expression on his face was, for once, not stoic. He looked physically pained.

“No. This can be my punishment. I will assist this Dwarf with her research for as long as I can. Then I donate my remains for further study.” Lord Trevelyan said, stifling his sobs for the moment. Always noble, even in the face of death.

Aphel almost choked with grief to hear the two men talk of killing their parents. She rested her palm on Julien’s back but couldn’t do anything more than be a presence of comfort, if one could even be comforted in such circumstances.

"Your assistance to the inquisition may save the lives of many." She said quietly to the prisoner in her most neutral tone.

“She’s right, milord. You’re offer is most gracious. After we’re finished, we’ll ensure what’s left is cremated and returned to your family in Ostwick” Dagna said, her normally perky demeanour changed to a more serious one.

Lord Trevelyan nodded and leaned his head against the wall.

“This may be the last you four see of me.” He exhaled “I just want you all to know… I love you. And be safe, we don’t know what your mother’s truly capable of. Andre. Take my signet ring and use the hidden entrance. You know the one.” he choked out, pulling the ring from his finger and tossing it gently to the bars, too scared to even get close to his children lest they be infected too.

Andre leaned forward and picked up the ring, moving it around in his hands. It had never felt heavier.

“Yes, Father.” he said, almost automatically.

The older man nodded his head and turned from them all, curling himself into the corner.

“He probably needs some rest, he hasn’t slept at all.” Dagna said quietly. 

 

* * *

 

When they reached the top of the stairs, Solas was pacing back and forth as though lost in a thought. Aphel recognised his tunic and leaned in to meet his eyes, leading him to look up at the group with a startled expression.

"Oh, you’ve returned." He drew in closed to Aphel and let his hands rest on her shoulders for comfort. "I was worried about you- The red lyrium. None of you made any contact with it, am I correct? It was certainly fiercer than any I’ve seen before."

Aphel squeezed his arm and nodded, the mood was simply too solemn for her to feel comfortable.

Andre, expression dark, excused himself from the group bluntly and stormed off in the direction of the courtyard. Knowing him, he was about to reduce a training dummy to splinters. Celeste’s sobs had eased but her face was still buried in Cullen’s shoulder, and he looked far too concerned for her to pay any attention to what else was going on. Gwyn sort of stood awkwardly, avoiding eye-contact with everyone.

“I’ll… I’m going to go practice with my spear” she said before shuffling off.

“Spear? Since when does she use a spear?” Julien asked no one in particular before sighing, “Well, I would suggest we all return to the Tavern for some strong drinks. Perhaps it would behove you to grab Dagna’s initial report in the morning to take back ‘home’ with you… in case you encounter something similar.” He nodded to Aphel and Solas.

He was trying to distract himself. He didn’t want to think about what had just happened or about what he might have to do.

"Julien…" Aphel walked to him and stood, staring up at him for a moment. It was surreal, she’d met him, and they’d travelled together, fought together, almost died together. "Julien it is alright to be upset. He’s your father. Not some nameless, mindless Templar-corrupted. It’s okay to hurt."

She pushed in and hugged him, her head barely reaching his shoulders, but her strong arms encircled him snugly.

Julien stood completely dumbstruck for a moment. She was hugging him? He heard his quiet, almost indiscernible sob before he felt it. This simple gesture was all it took for the emotions to be brought to the front. Pain. Unbelievable, unbearable intense pain. He let out a few shaky breaths before hugging her back tightly. If it was one thing his father had ingrained in him however, it was public appearance. There were nobles still milling around. He couldn’t allow them to see him so distraught, broken. He didn’t let any tears fall, not just yet. After a prolonged moment, he broke away from her.

“I… I know. Thank you. But I can’t…. I can’t be upset in front of everyone here. They need their leader to be strong. I will allow myself to grieve, but it will have to be later,” he said, glancing out at everyone in the hall.

Aphel drew up onto her tiptoes and with her hands she brought her forehead to his, their noses brushing in a solemn show of love.

"You do that, Red."

He was stunned. He didn’t know what to say. Somehow, even though they’d known each other for only a short time, Aphel had become one of his best, most dearest friends. This was such a sweet gesture and he was ruining it with slack-jawed astonishment. He closed his eyes and pushed back against her gently, to show he felt the same.

“Thank you, Aphel. I truly am grateful” was all he managed to express.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two chapters will be much longer by around 3k and you can look forward to sex scenes!! I know I am. Thanks again everyone ❦  
> ~Kim & Kill  
> 


	20. This is how you remind me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psyche  
> Part 6/7

There was something about horses that really got Aphel’s goat. She felt herself begin to itch with tension and possibly hay while Feit seemed chuffed as anything, happily gossiping away with Gwyneth while the two of them led two of the Ferelden mares from their stables out into the courtyard to be fitted with luggage.

"Good to see you here Inquisitor, are you here to help load them horses?" Called a gruff, audibly beardy voice from her right.

"No, I-"

Aphel was cut off as Julien appeared with a shy expression and clapped a hand to Blackwall’s shoulder.

“Sure am! You know how I feel about people touching my stuff,” he said with a wink.

It was a good thing he cut in when he did, that could have been awkward for Aph. It must be weird for her - hearing another be called that. Blackwall smiled and shook his head.

“Hopeless aren’t you? Well off you trot then, I think I see your sister picking up your bags,” he said, pointing out Celeste.

Julien flashed Aphel a smile before running off to recover his things. Celeste had better not put bugs in his clothes! Again.

“He’s lying. This has nothing to do with being precious about his things, he likes helping out with stuff like this. ‘Many hands makes light work’ he told me once,” Blackwall said casually to Aphel.

She smiled in reply and slipped into the seat to watch the man who’s steady countenance only shifted to her for a moment before turning back to magnify on the work of his hands. Sturdy, calloused fingers worked, delicately chiselling down the wooden griffon; the symbol of the grey wardens.

"I don’t recall if you ever finished that last griffon…" Aphel mumbled and slumped with her head resting over her crossed arms.

"Err… not yet. It’s just a hobby of mine, I’ve never really… People don’t usually watch me do this," He replied and she noticed him blush.

"I know. I have done a little carving myself, I have no talent for it but it is terribly relaxing trying your damnedest to not slice into your thumb."

Blackwall chuckled and laid down his tools to focus back on her.

“Who are you, may I ask? I did notice the new face but I don’t usually wander too far from my place here unless Julien needs me. We’ve had some… disagreements recently.”

"I’m a friend of his. Sort of new, but sort of old. I’m sure a grey warden can understand that, am I right?" Aphel was so pleased to see Blackwall doing so well, even if it wasn’t _her_ Blackwall. They’d been good friends almost since the day she’d plucked him from the wilds training villagers to defend themselves. It was all so noble. She often blushed a little at her past self for being so incautious. After all, Leliana had been right about the involvement of the Grey Wardens but Aphel was only grateful to him when Blackwall asked to stay even though she’d banished his comrades from Orlais.

He hesitated a moment before replying wisely “I can certainly understand that.”

“Can you though?” Andre said, walking into the stables with a confident stride.

He had spoken to the Blacksmith and had his new armour fitted properly. He hadn’t trusted the thing to protect him properly before, it was clearly made for someone bulkier. Now it was snug but comfortable at the same time not to mention he felt a million times safer knowing it was fortified. This Blackwall though, he did not trust. He’d heard many stories of Julien’s exploits during his trip to Skyhold and he wasn’t sure he agreed with his decision regarding this man. He sounded like a complete con-artist. Andre had decided to check him out himself, just to make sure his brother hadn’t been suckered in.

“I’ve heard your story, _Blackwall_ ,” he said, not even trying to hide his disdain.

Aphel frowned ferociously and turned in her seat to eye Andre. What was it about this human that got under her skin? Something about his blunt address and obvious pride made her itch worse than the horses.

"Well how goes it, messere? You certain that tin breast-plate of yours isn’t just a little too tight?"

"If you’ve heard my story, then you’ll know full well that the Inquisitor has accepted me with full knowledge, Boy," Blackwall grunted without even looking at Andre.

Andre raised an eyebrow at Aphel but otherwise ignored her remark. Not even worth starting an argument about. That ‘Boy’ comment, however, had irked him.

“I realise he has accepted you, I am just making sure you aren’t taking advantage. My brother is too soft - he trusts people too easily. I just want to know for sure your allegiance lies with him and his Inquisition,” he commanded sharply, resting a hand on the sword at his hip.

It was true. Julien was quite naive when it came to people. He often saw goodness where there was none and it had bitten him on the ass on multiple occasions. Usually Andre would just leave it be and let Julien deal with the consequences himself but this was an entirely different situation. It wasn’t only Julien that would suffer if this Blackwall was a turncoat. 

"Of course it is," Aphel crossed her arms "Blackwall was never involved with those other Wardens. Besides, he’s proven time and time again where his intentions lie. Someone who hasn’t been with the Inquisition to witness that shouldn’t speak so curtly."

Andre laughed tersely. Obviously she hadn’t heard about him then.

“I am well aware he wasn’t involved with any Wardens, that’s the issue here,” he said sardonically.

Blackwall frowned deeply and stepped forward.

“I’m not sure I like your tone, boy,” he growled, putting himself between Aphel and the man.

“OK! That’s enough, break it up!” Julien shouted out, running back into the stables, “Back off Andre! I know what you’re doing and you needn’t bother. It’s fine. Drop it.”

Andre glared at Blackwall a moment longer then relaxed his stance.

“It’s on your head if it’s not,” he replied quietly.

Aphel watched the man walk out and turned back to Blackwall with a quizzical expression.

"Mythal’enaste, what was his problem? Julien, are you sure your brother is… alright?"

Julien sighed.

“I… I don’t think he is. He really takes this sort of stuff to heart and all this business with my parents probably has him in meltdown mode,” he turned to Blackwall, “I apologize on his behalf. He’s just trying to cling to any sort of order he can at this point. I know that’s no excuse for being so… blunt but…” he trailed off.

They were all taking it pretty hard. Celeste hadn’t really spoken since the whole thing went down. She’d practically been attached to Cullen’s hip ever since. He was glad she’s at least found a pillar of strength to lean on. Gwyn was just acting like nothing had happened at all – like she’s blocked the entire thing out. Andre was… well quite frankly, being a massive bag of dicks.

“I’m sorry in advance if he’s rude to you. Just tell me and I’ll deal with him.”

Aphel stood to go along with Julien, waving a goodbye to Blackwall who returned sullenly to his work.

"No need, actually I think I kind of… enjoy it. I don’t meet too many people who challenge me like he does. Is that a little bit sick?" She laughed "So how are things moving along? Who do we have coming with us?"

The night before - after a long and well deserved break - the Trevelyans had discussed the plans for travel to make their way home and, in so many words, retrieve their seat from Tevinter hands. Julien shook his head with a laugh.

“I think you're the only person alive that enjoys Andre’s little arguments. Things are moving along well, we’ll be ready to leave soon. We’re definitely taking the Chargers, we can’t very well march into Ostwick with a full army now, can we? I also talked to Varric about a few contacts he has plus he's great with disarming traps and fitting into small spaces. Cole would be simply the best choice for what we have to do - has the whole disappear at will thing going for him after all. What do you think?” he said, fiddling with the hem of his sleeves.

He never in his wildest dreams thought he would ever want to break into the estate. Getting out? Easy as pie! Getting in? He’d never even entertained the idea before. He jumped slightly as a hand snaked around his waist.

“And you’re taking me of course! I’ve got to meet the other parent now, don’t I?” Dorian jested, planting a small kiss on the red-head’s cheek.

"We’d be lost without you along Sparkler," Aphel only partly jested. She wouldn’t think twice about bringing their Tevinter Altus. "I’ll need my Solas with me, that you already know and Blackwall has a solid shield.”

She gave the bearded warden a backwards glance and couldn’t help but smile and his familiar hunched form.

“Could I suggest another?” she piped up. “My brother, Feit. He’s an excellent bowman and a good worker, though he may get a little distracted, I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think he could help…"

Dorian scowled a little bit at the suggestion but didn’t say anything. Julien had had a rather heated discussion with him the night before about letting certain things go. Didn’t mean he had to like the idea though.

“Of course, I was planning on inviting him anyway. Gwyn seems to have taken a shine to him.” Julien smiled, glancing over his shoulder at the two in question.

They were currently throwing little bundles of hay at each other and dodging around the horses for cover. It was nice to hear his sister’s laugh again, even with Lysette’s shadow hovering nearby constantly. That sound hadn’t changed, despite becoming a little deeper, over the maker-knows how many years they’d been separated. He quirked an eyebrow as he spied his brother talking to their esteemed Diplomat. Josephine looked like she was telling him off for something and the withered look on his face was priceless.

“She has him whipped, doesn’t she? I didn’t even know they knew each other…” Julien said absent-mindedly.

It took a few moments to catch on but then she laughed a little and replied.

"It appears Josephine can beat him more severely than I, and with only a flick of that tongue of hers. If only she would try it on me too," Aphel winked

"So, I’ve seen a strange looking… lizardy thing… in there with the horses, I’ve been wanting to ask but… how to bring it up?" she waved her hand vaguely toward the stable.

“Lizardy thing?” Julien asked, turning back to the elf. What was she on about? He followed her nervous gaze.

“Oh! You’re talking about Cupcake?! Oh she’s the sweetest thing ever! Let me just get her! Oh you’ll love her!” he said excitedly, practically skipping over to her stable.

Dorian shook his head with a smile as his boyfriend let this somewhat-terrifying thing just drool all over him as he walked up to it.

“It’s a Dracolisk. He has a weird fondness for it-” Dorian began.

“HER! Cupcake is a her, Dorian! And you’ll have to get used to her because she’s staying with me for life … and she’s a Hunter Shade Dracolisk, to be more specific!” Julien yelled out to them.

He wrapped his arms around her neck to hug her and the beast just licked the top of his head affectionately. A quick scratch behind one of her horns had her make this harrowing, ethereal whinny that spooked the other horses a little.

"I’m glad you know what it-she is, honestly I’m just pleased she doesn’t have horse hair." Aphel scratched at her elbow at the thought. "I think I’ll go see to the supplies, era seranna ma."

Julien went to protest but Cupcake just licked his entire face, cutting him off completely. Dorian’s loud laughter could be heard from outside near the gates.

* * *

 

 Celeste checked off the last of the food supplies and nodded to the head chef before turning back to Cullen.

“Well, that’s one list complete… although apparently we’re short a cheese wheel. No matter… It’s really a shame you can’t come with us,” she said, eyes downcast.

He’d been such a sweetheart to her the past couple of days, she felt sad to leave him behind but as the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces he had to stay behind with the troops. He gave her a sad smile.

“I would if I could, my lady but you know how it is… you will come back to visit, won’t you?” he said, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

Celeste smiled. What a dork. She heard someone approaching and turned to them before she could answer. It was Aphel, looking quite determined to escape the stables for some reason.

“Hey Aph, what’s up?” she asked.

"Oh, a few things… most pressing would be a spell for allergies. Anyway, how soon is it until we are set to leave? I think I have to find some warmer clothes for the journey down the mountains. I didn’t exactly arrive here… prepared."

Celeste smiled at the elf but the cheer didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I’m sure Lady Montilyet would be able to set you up with some clothes. As for the allergies, Gwyn is your go-to gal. She was telling me yesterday she’s quite the accomplished Spirit Healer,” she said, trying her best to sound cheerful.

To be perfectly honest, she wasn’t coping too well. Sure, she had gained her long lost sister but at the cost of both her parents. She knew their deaths were inevitable but she never imagined they’d both go so soon. It meant a lot of things but most of all it meant she had to be strong and support the others. She didn’t feel like she was quite up to the task, perhaps they all would have been better off if Andre had been born first.

Looking closely, Aphel could sense the slight distance that had grown in Celeste’s manner. But sensing was easy, knowing how to help, that was another challenge altogether.

"Cel, perhaps you should rest for a while, before things become far too hectic. Curly will be able to organise a few carts, right?"

Cullen raised his hand over his heart and bowed slightly.

“It’s no problem, you’ll be traveling hard for a good while and you should rest while you can, my Lady.”

"See? The Commander is not just a pretty face you know. Let me whisk you away." Aphel brought her hand up to mimic Cullen and swooped into a dramatically low bow. "An hour is all I ask."

Celeste couldn’t help but give a small smile. These two teamed up were a force to be reckoned with. Even if she wasn’t going to take the elf up on her offer, she’d be hard pressed to say no now.

“Very well, I suppose a small rest couldn’t hurt… but if there’s any issues, make sure you come get me, ok?” she said, directing the last bit at Cullen.

He nodded the affirmative and gave Aphel a look that said I’m-worried-about-her-make-sure-she’s-ok. Celeste handed him her clipboard and quill and patted him on the shoulder before walking over and standing next to Aphel.

“Ok, where to?” she asked pleasantly.

Aphel allowed Celeste to wonder, holding a finger to her lips.

“That is a secret for the moment.”

She very much hoped what she had in mind would be the same in this world as it was in her own, so far as she’d known, the difference were hard to predict. So her steps were a little hesitant when she drew Celeste into darkened hallways that occasionally splintered off into undercrofts filled will ales and cheeses and the homes of spiders.

Celeste was intrigued. A secret? In these dim corridors, there could be anything waiting for them. She honestly didn’t know what to expect. It was quiet here, though, and that calmed her restlessness. It was nice to just be led for once, to just follow. She didn’t want to ruin the moment by asking questions or hounding her for information, so she remained quiet. Instead she quickened her pace to match Aphel’s and casually slipped her hand into the smaller woman’s, giving her a shy, soft smile as she did so.

Aphel struck her light rune against the black walls and the white ember surrounded them with a cool glow.

"Do you remember when we spoke of this place? Tarasyl’an te’las: The place that holds the sky. Solas and I tried to find out as much as we could from it, and really, there wasn’t much left centuries later. But we did find some things that… well, made up for all that."

The echoing of rushing water began pouring through the tunnels and the surface of the walls dampened, increasing the scent of mushrooms and mineral deposits trapped in ancient earth.

“It does sound familiar...” Celeste drifted off.

The deep mushrooms scattered about farther down the tunnel, beyond the light of the rune, glowed an amazing intense blue. It was, in its own weird way, beautiful. To be honest, she had never really explored any… caves? Underground tunnels? Whatever this was. Most of her experiences were of buildings and handmade structures. She’d never gone on any real hunting trips or anything like that, so all of this was far out of her comfort zone. She felt a little uneasy with being surrounded by stone. What if the way collapsed and they got trapped underground? She shuddered at the thought and gripped a little tighter onto Aphel’s hand.

Aphel led Celeste along steadily as they moved deeper and was pleased to see the veilfire still flickering, the memories of flame, eternal as they burn from the traces of a single moment lost through time.

Across the vast expanse of cavern Aphel recalled almost photographically seeing Solas standing, his back to her as he paced beside the black waters of the underground river.

"This river runs below the fort. The water is pure because it has been filtered through all the earth in the mountains. The wells draw from it further up."

“Woah! This is amazing, Aph! I didn’t know underground rivers were even possible” She kind of wanted to go and take a dip in the river but surely the water would be ice cold? Or would it be warm? She had no idea, geography wasn’t her area of expertise. She must look like a complete dopey tourist. Slack jawed at the sight of a river? Maybe she should have paid more attention in her classes.

“You could survive down here for a while, couldn’t you? Only need food and this’d be the perfect set up,” she thought out loud.

"I had never thought of that. But here, follow me a little farther."

Aphel was elated to see Celeste smiling so genuinely again and couldn’t contain herself for the thrill of what those emerald eyes would lay upon next. Warm affection bloomed in Aphel’s chest and overflowed, filling her heart and covering her skin and she begged that it would reach Celeste and fill her too.

The thin break between walls could be missed as simply as a spoon carelessly kicked beneath a bench and lost. But Aphel had marked this particular place in her mind months ago when Solas had shown her and just like that, here it lie in the forest of stalagmites that the two of them twisted their bodies between. The monuments of millennia gone by, breaking free into the following cavern.

It was dark as night, and as the night is dark, the ceiling shone, glittering with bioluminescent algae that draped and glittered like little falling stars.

Ahead at their feet were large open pools of slowly swirling water gracefully trickling from one to another.

"What do you think?" Aphel asked and turned back to the woman stood still behind her.

Celeste drew in a sharp breath. She was in complete awe, far more than before. The river in the previous carven might as well have been a muddy puddle in comparison to the majesty of this scenery. Had they somehow fallen into the fade? For a sight as wondrous as this surely could not be real! Even if she had a thousand years, she still would not find a way to properly express her wonder and amazement. This… this was like something out of a fairy tale!

“Oh… Oh Aphel it’s… words can’t do it justice!” she breathed out, stepping closer to the glow.

"It’s okay to breathe Cel, there’s no one but me here."  Stepping backwards, Aphel took both of Celeste’s hands and tugged softly, skating her fingers along the length of those arms to rest at her sides. "I want to… I want to take you away for a moment. Even if that is all we get."

Celeste tore her gaze away from the false-stars to look at Aphel. All of this hassle, just for her? She could see by the look in her eyes that Aphel cared. About her. She… she was touched. Placing a hand on the elf’s cheek gently, Celeste gave her a warm smile.

“Thank you. For this, for… well everything. I’m glad to have met you,” she said quietly, leaning forward to touch foreheads with her.

Aphel’s heart pounded at the touch and the rich scent of the other woman had her practically intoxicated as a violent blush heated her face.

"I am glad to hear it, I feel the same for you…"

She knew it was stupid, reckless, and impulsive… but she couldn’t stop herself. Aphel pushed back, tilting her head and raising herself those last infinite millimetres and connected her lips to Celeste’s. Her eyes dropped closed at the touch and she felt her heart jolt and her mind swam. Although she had felt this many times, each time she had fallen in love felt just as strong, just as terrifying, and just as euphoric. Aphel thought it must be a little what dying feels like.

Celeste was stunned for a moment. Honestly, she should have seen this coming. The way the two of them were completely at ease with one another and how easy the laughs and little touches here and there should have clued her in. This kiss was different from their first one. There was something else behind it. Some intense force that warmed her chest and made her want to scream, laugh and cry all at the same time. She wasn’t sure what it was but it made her press into the kiss more, deepening it. She kissed her like it would be her last act on earth, like her life depended on it. Eventually they had to break away for air.

“Aphel I…”

For once, she wasn’t sure what to say.

"I’m in love with you Cel but you know I can’t stay. If you don’t want this, tell me and I won’t ever try anything like this again."

Aphel stepped back slightly, wanting to show her she wasn’t trying to pressure her into anything, but still dying to continue.

Celeste felt her heart stop. Love? No one had ever loved her before. She’d had people that had fancied her or lusted over her but never had anyone been in love with her. That feeling she had earlier, was that love? She wasn’t sure. If not then it was close to it, she did care deeply for Aphel. She knew if she let things get any further, it’d be heartbreaking for the both of them when they had to say goodbye but on the other hand, she might regret it if she never even tried. What was that saying? ‘It’s better to have loved and lost then to never have loved at all.’

“I… I do want this, Aph. I know we’re on borrowed time but... I would hate myself for the rest of my days if I turned you away now,” she said plainly before stepping forward and pulling her in for another breathtaking kiss. 

Aphel felt her legs tremble at the force of it and for a moment she felt weightless against Celeste’s body. Until she felt them both tip and fall unsurreptitiously with a slight squeal of surprise into the turquoise pools. Their hold on each other was released and both kicked in the water to break through the surface. Looking at the sheer surprise on Celeste’s face, Aphel feared drowning from the laughter that made staying afloat infinitely harder.

Well. That woke her up! Celeste found herself laughing happily along with Aphel. Her head kept on dipping under the water, however, and she got frustrated with it. Grabbing Aphel’s hand, she kicked them gently back to the shallower waters where they could at least touch the ground.

“It’s always something that interrupts us! It’s probably my curse interfering again” she giggled, “I have uncannily bad luck when it comes to… romantic endeavors.”

They pulled themselves up to waist height and Aphel began running her hands through her hair. “Luck is… not something I enjoy putting too much value in, but for good luck, the water is deliciously warm.”

She stripped off her arm covers and threw them aside, stepping up to Celeste and bringing a hand to draw her down to connect their kiss, dipping her tongue in as the two of them sunk to their knees in the radiant pools.

Not breaking their kiss, Celeste stripped off her now drenched leather coat and threw it behind herself. It made a horrible, wet slapping sound as it hit the dry land and she couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss before tearing herself away.

“I-I’m sorry that… that was just the least attractive noise I could have possibly made… I… I need a moment,” she managed to spit out in between bouts of laughter.

She stripped off her vambraces and gloves, throwing them near the coat before returning to her eager partner.

“Now, where were we?” she said, trying her best to sound seductive.

"We’ll need to work on your stripping routine won’t we?" Aphel giggled into Celeste’s mouth and held her gently. They kissed continuously and Aphel wound her fingers through the ties and clips, loosening the other woman’s clothes and feeling tempted to simply let them drift away under the water.

Eventually she was left, half-submerged, in only her under-shirt that clung to her chest and billowed like a halo in the water. They parted and Aphel let herself admire Celeste’s tantalizing figure and the tempting shadows in the water.

"You’re beautiful."

Celeste blushed. She’d been called that plenty of times before but she’d never believed anyone was genuine about it until now. Oh Aphel. Oh dear, sweet Aphel. Her heart sung with the feeling of warmth and happiness. She simply smiled and pulled her in for another passionate kiss, letting her hands roam and begin to undo the light clothing that sealed her lover away. Her _lover_. She liked that thought.

“If I’d known we’d be doing something like this, I’d have worn something lacier,” she teased, shaking her head slightly to cast off any leftover bashful feelings.

Aphel pulled Celeste onto her lap and allowed herself to be stripped bare. Her dark nipples appearing swollen and firm with desire.

"You needn’t wear anything at all emma lath," Aphel jested and finally lifted the cotton shirt hiding away Celeste’s body.

Even in the warmth of the water, Celeste’s ivory skin was burning against Aphel and she sighed and pulled her closer, pressing her cheek against her breastbone. She felt brilliantly light at having Celeste so close, like a weight was being lifted from her heart. She was sharp, and honest, and warm, like burning embers floating above a fire. And she made Aphel feel taken away from all the responsibility, and the seriousness, and the façade of being the Herald. With Celeste she wasn’t the saviour, nor the Inquisitor. Celeste could truthfully _see_ her. Aphel slid her hands slowly up Celeste’s back and with her tongue she explored the crescent of a breast and drew the soft flesh between her lips.

Celeste sighed in contentment and laced her fingers in Aphel’s hair, gently messing it. This was nice. The two of them together like this was like a dream brought to life – it didn’t seem real. Were they really here, doing this? She’d given up hope of even kissing Aphel again let alone- her thoughts were cut off by her own loud gasping as Aphel’s warm mouth engulfed her nipple. Her fingers gripped hard onto her soft hair, knuckles going white for sure. Damn her wandering thoughts! She’d been caught completely off guard. She needed to salvage this somehow. She gently leant forward and, while cupping her partner’s cheek softly, ran a tongue along the outer edge of her left ear.

“Tell me, ‘Phel, are your ears sensitive?” she whispered, trying her best to be alluring.

Aphel groaned in reply to the sensation and the sensual huskiness of Celeste’s voice. She adored the way Celeste seemed to play her like a lute, plucking her fingers over Aphel’s taught strings. She spread out her hands, enjoying the friction of her skin and the slight movements Celeste would make each time she changed their direction. So when she moved them both up her stomach and captured a swelling breast in each, Celeste rocked forward and their lips met again. The subtle flavour mixed with her spicy scent spurred Aphel’s enthusiasm and she thrust her thigh upwards to meet the heat between Celeste’s legs.

Well. That had Celeste moan in lascivious delight. A shiver rocked throughout her entire body, causing her skin to prickle into more goosebumps. Oooo Aphel was good. This was just too delicious. Her tongue darted out of her mouth for an instant to wet her suddenly dry lips. She enjoyed the warmth and slight support of the hands covering her chest and appreciated the fact Aphel wasn’t gripping too hard. A single hand of her rose up to cover the elf’s and the other she placed on Aphel’s shoulder, readying herself in case she needed something to hold onto. She didn’t want to appear too eager but her thoughts were beginning to be drowned out by the music their bodies were making. If she showed restraint now, she could prolong the sensation and - fuck it. She ground herself shamelessly on Aphel’s leg, a squeal of delight escaping her lips as she did so.

Aphel bathed in the pleasure of hearing Celeste’s short moans and desperate whines and felt herself burning and practically melting at the woman’s eager thrusts.

The hand that Celeste had captured began softly massaging while the other, replaced by her lips and tongue lapping the textured bud, moved down, caressing over her ribs and waist, circling over her stomach teasingly below the water, fingertips streaking over a thigh to press intimately at the woman’s pubis as her thumb made the barest touches against her clitoris. Aphel couldn’t help but moan along with Celeste’s shuddering breaths.

Celeste moved her hand from Aphel’s shoulder and snaked it around her neck, pulling herself forward to press their foreheads together. Her uneven breathing tickled the elf’s dampened skin. Oh Maker, she’d never thought being with Aphel would be this satisfying. Not just physically, but on an emotional level too. All the care and admiration shone through the warrior’s actions. The gentle feather-light touches and the deep passionate kisses. It was in that moment that Celeste gained clarity. Any doubt she had before was blown out of her mind. This must be love, for any other emotion would pale in comparison to when she was experiencing now. She smiled and allowed a small, sweet laugh escape her. Adjusting herself slightly, she shifted her now shaky legs so she was in a more comfortable position and let her grip on Aphel’s hand drop.

“Enough of me being selfish, yes?” she breathed out in between moans, glancing at Aphel through heavy lids.

She kissed Aphel’s eyes and cheeks and then her mouth as it opened to the sensation of her deft fingers finding their way to her softness.

Aphel could never seem to find her words at times like this and just let her body speak for her by pressing her head into the nook of Celeste’s shoulder where she left trails of urgent kisses. Celeste’s hand gripped her trembling thighs and Aphel pulled her arms up around the woman’s shoulders while she smothered a shuddering gasp as Celeste teased the eager nerves of her clitoris. Aphel felt herself tilting back so Celeste wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tilted her head to kiss at the skin of her jaw and neck. Celeste grinned at the moans Aphel failed to withhold while her fingers worked and she darted her tongue out to stroke at the elf’s delicate ear.

"Ahh fenhedis lasa…"

Celeste had no idea what that meant but it sounded _hot_. She quite liked the look of the usually well behaved elf being so… unhinged - wanton, even. The idea of being the cause of such behaviour… excited Celeste. A quick suck on Aphel’s throat earned her a moan for her troubles. Mmm yes, she could get used to the idea of being a bad influence. She allowed her fingers to quicken their pace slightly for a moment then slowed right down, teasing the elf ruthlessly.

“S-say something else in Elven… I-I rather like the sound,” she breathed heavily, making sure it tickled her partner’s ear.  

Aphel panted as her blood left her mind swimming.

"mm…mythal halani… ar isala ma in, ma vhenan Sahlin. Tu ma garas."

She arced herself below the water and moved her hand to press in return against Celeste’s labia once more, stroking with her palm and caressing the heat with her fingertips until she felt Celeste press back against them. Aphel watched Celete’s eyes drop closed as she dipped them inside slowly.

“O-oh Maker,” Celeste cried out, throwing her head back in ecstasy, mouth agape.

Ok. So maybe the role of being the wicked temptress could be shared. She could live with that, Aphel was doing a fine job of it. A credit Celeste was willing to give to warriors – where they lacked in dexterity, they certainly made up for it in strength and stamina. She found the firm pressure of Aphel’s hand on her stomach comforting and the rough texture of her slightly calloused fingers? Divine. She shuffled a little bit so she could recline, leaning on her elbows as to keep her head above water. Her milky thighs found themselves wrapped around her partner’s hips in an attempt to pull her closer, deeper. She opened her eyes and met Aphel’s gaze.

“I… I love you too… I... never said… before,” she said in between waves of pleasure, suddenly timid.

Aphel quietly cursed the water at barring her from doing rather more… intimate things but decided it could be done another day. After all, now they would have another, and another, and more. Instead she moved, drawn closer by Celeste’s legs, and dipped her head to steal another kiss while pressing herself hungrily against the back of her hand, bringing her fingers deeper into Celeste, practically drooling at the soft warmth meeting her.

"Hamin Celeste, garas."

Celeste decided she really needed to learn Elven. Although she didn’t understand the meaning, she felt the inflection and allowed herself to relax – it was a little too late to start feeling bashful now. She practically melted into the ground. In all of her… ‘Conquests’, she’d never felt so cared for. The way the two of them were moving in sync was like poetry – there were no ulterior motives or self-centred interests at hand. This was about the two of them enjoying one another’s company and to just be as close as they could while they could. It was strange, she felt tears welling up in her eyes. All of this emotional and physical stimulation was driving her over the edge. The pressure kept building up inside of her until she felt like she was about to burst. She leant up, flinging her shaky arms around Aphel’s neck and meeting her lips with a deep, sweet kiss. Her moans were muffled as she came hard on Aphel’s hand, body shaking with an intensity that could shame earthquakes.

Aphel felt herself fall from their magnificent peak and let a loud moan rip from her lungs in the ecstasy. They continued to kiss, embracing tenderly as they cooled off, becoming familiar with each other’s feel and touch and scent.

Celeste giggled lightheartedly, leaning her head against Aphel’s shoulder.

“Well, that was well worth the wait.” she giggled, smile so wide it would probably hurt her cheeks if she held it too long.

This was perfect. Just the two of them, alone and naked under the ‘stars’ glittering above. Only sounds of water dripping and breathing slowing could be heard. In that moment there was no worry, no concern large enough to warrant their attention. Celeste laced her fingers with Aphel’s.

“Let’s… let’s just stay here… at least for a while longer.”

Aphel smiled at her and brushed away a few fine red hairs stuck to Celeste’s cheek then stroked her thumb across those deliciously plump lips. She admired the small curve her lips made in the corner that gave the impression of an ever-present smirk.

"Ma nuvenin, sweet. We have plenty of time. And our clothes aren’t going to dry anytime soon," she let out a laugh that echoed against the stones.

Celeste laughed alongside her and then groaned inwardly. Right. Their clothes. The only pair either of them had down here. Why hadn’t they thought about this earlier? Celeste blamed Aphel’s pelvic sorcery and her own notorious bad luck. She was not looking forward to their walk of shame back upstairs.

“Too bad neither of us is a mage, could have dried them up quick,” she said with a small wave of her free hand.

"It can be dealt with later, I needed new ones anyway," Aphel swung her arm across Celeste’s shoulders and the two of them relaxed and bathed in the soft glow of the steaming spring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whistles* ;)  
> Yes shoosh I reference Nickelback.
> 
> ~Kim and Kill


	21. Your hands in my hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psyche  
> Part 7/7

"Ahh! Too tight Gwyn!" Feit squawked from his seat on top of a barrel.

"Sorry! I guess I’m too used to plaiting my very thick and curly hair."

Gwyn giggled a little to herself at her friend’s reaction. While she did feel bad about hurting him, his little screech was too funny. It had been a while since she’d braided anyone else’s hair. The last time had to have been back at the Circle. She frowned a little at the thought of her once-home. She missed her friends dearly and hoped they’d made it out in one piece. Perhaps a few of them were still near Ostwick? No, why would they be? The Ostwick Templars would be obliged to hunt them all down, possibly kill them on sight. It had been, what, a year or so? No. She’d just have to keep wondering.

“Your hair is so smooth and soft… what do you wash it with?” Gwyn asked, trying to take her mind off her gloomy thoughts.

Feit tried to sit as still as he could but the sensation of his hands tugging gradually at his skull had him dozing off.

"I like to get the human-made soap, it works so well," he replied with a yawn in between, "It was always frustrating when the traders wouldn’t take my money. It wasn’t like I stole it."

Gwyn grunted with disapproval.

“Typical. One of my friends back at the circle was an elf and she couldn’t get merchants to trade with her either. Honestly, money is money it shouldn’t matter who’s handing it over,” she grumbled, receiving another squeak as she tugged too tight.

She quickly finished up her braid and patted his head gently. Some of her best work, if she did say so herself! With careful hands, she reached into one of her belt pouches and pulled out her precious mirror shard.

“There! All done! I hope you like it,” she said, leaning forward with the shard outstretched to show Feit her handiwork.

"OH! brilliant!" He flicked the tail playfully and ran his fingers over it. "So how’s it going practicing with a spear? My new bow is perfect, want to try sparring? I’ll use a spear too."

She flashed him a half smile.

“Sure! You’re totally gonna beat my ass though, I’m still not very good.” she said, placing the shard back into her pouch before jumping off the crate she was perched on.

Grabbing his hand, she pulled him out to where the Chargers sparred with Lysette following behind closely. The place was deserted now as the aforementioned merc group was helping pack supplies. The two of them darted to the weapon rack and Gwyn picked up the spear Bull had picked out for her, testing its weight in her hands. Yup. Still a tiny fraction heavier than she’d like but she had to grow muscles sometime, right? She quickly glanced at Lysette to determine the Templar's stance on her sparring, it wasn't magic after-all. Lysette raised a brow.

"Try not to hurt yourself too severely. Your Brothers would kill me." she said, as she reclined against a nearby wall.

Gwyn nodded and smiled.

“Have you trained with a spear before? I don’t really even know what I’m doing most of the time…” she said, playing up on her ignorance a little.

Feeling a little smug at being the more knowledgeable one for once, he gave her a grin.

"Let’s just say I’ve been in a lot of fights where my only choice was to improvise, I suppose that’s how I learn most things. But I did have a good teacher for a while." Feit swapped the shaft from hand to hand until he changed his mind. "Actually, I’ll use that sword and shield. If you end up fighting, it isn’t likely you’ll come across another person with a spear. So try to get me while keeping your distance."

Feit attached a small rounded wooden shield to his arm and braced a practice sword in his other hand. It was clunky and he felt awkward but his muscles found their memory soon enough. Every time he’d snuck into the towns he’d always picked up some new thing to learn and the weight of the shield reminded his of another red-haired woman he’d followed around for months before she'd finally began teaching him. She was a city guard who seemed to care more about elves than most would. She was very close friends with two, even though they both gave her hell, and she found humans and Qunari were much more troublesome. Those were good memories.

"Come at me whenever you’re ready." 

Shit. She’d never fought anyone with a shield before. She supposed it was a good thing he switched though, better her first time come from a friend rather than an enemy. They circled each other for a time until Gwyn lunged forward with her spear, pulling back just as Feit raised his shield. Quickly turning on her heel, she reversed her grip and cleaved horizontally with her spear, opposite side to his shield. It would have been a good move had he not had a sword in his hand. The spear bounced off the blade harmlessly.

“Shit! I forgot… I’m used to two handed wielders not being able to block after a fake-out,” she groaned.

"Don’t worry, you’ll get it. You’ve got me at a distance, you don’t need to kill me, just take me out of the game, try aiming at my feet first to break my eye-contact. Aveline used to yell at me for standing too straight, course I was used to bow-work; small target, keep still. With a shield you got to keep low she said, maximize your barrier and keep moving. Using a spear is different, you'll wanna keep ‘em avoiding you so they don’t get a chance to move in and when they leave a gap, you shoot between. Well, that’s what I figure." He shrugged. Being particularly good at one thing was important he supposed, but he had always found it fun to know at least a little about everything.

"You’re not wrong." The Iron bull strode up and took a seat on a crate nearby, "Give it a go Gwyn, I’m enjoying the view."

Gwyn bit her lip to suppress a smile. These two.

“Ok, here goes then…”

She took it slower this time, pointing the spear at Feit as she circled him again. To be perfectly honest, if she were fighting a real opponent this would be a lot easier. She figured in a real fight, it didn’t matter if she couldn’t stab them with the spear, all she’d have to do is get near and then zap ‘em. If it were any other sparring partner, she’d use a weak lightning spell to stun them a little to prove her point, but she couldn’t do that to Feit. He’d freak out. No, looks like she’d have to pay the piper and just learn this stuff. Besides, she had an audience to impress, yes?

She swung at the shield a few times letting the spear ping off, until she suddenly dropped and swept at Feit’s feet. As he jumped back to get out of the way, she swung the spear up and twirled it in her hand as she would her staff, returning to her starting position. She smiled. She’d repelled him at least!

"How was that?"

"Lucky I’m quick." Feit joked.

The Iron Bull clapped at their display.

"Yeah, keep them guessing, You’ve got a good handle on that thing already. Not to mention you’ve got great tits. They’ll be distracting enough when you’re staring down your shaft at the vints."

Bull smiled playfully and Feit laughed hard, clutching his stomach.

Gwyn felt her cheeks heat up. Great tits? She looked down at them. They were… ok she supposed? She’d seen nicer ones. Hell, she’d _touched_ nicer ones. Was he just trying to throw her off guard? Because if he was, he’d succeeded. She shook her head and tried to clear it of any over-thinking. He was just joking. Probably.

“Any Vints come near me and my ‘great tits’ and I’ll fry ‘em,” she said, holding up a hand and conjuring some small sparks for emphasis.

The Bull laughed at that and went to make another joke but was stopped by Feit falling flat on his butt in the dirt.

The strange feeling shot through each of Feit’s hair follicles and he felt himself reflexively begin trembling, he dropped his sword and ripped at the shield on his arm to try and stop the sudden sensation.

“Shit! Sorry Feit!” Gwyn said dropping her spear and running towards him.

Stupid! That was such a dim-witted thing to do! And all for a joke? She felt like the worst person in the world. She’d only just been thinking about not spooking him like a minute ago!

“I-I forgot… I didn’t mean to,” she stammered, hesitantly offering her hand to help him up.

"nn…" Feit began to stammer so instead kept his mouth shut. He could still feel it leeching from her and out of fear he pushed her hand away quickly. After a few deep breaths the fear ebbed and Feit looked up at Gwyneth and The Bull bashfully. Feeling guilty, he let out a whisper "fen- fenhedis. I’m alright. Th-that, it was only you. Sorry, I-I d-din’t… I wasn’t… shit."

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel a little hurt by that but she knew it was deserved. Some friend she was! Glancing down at her hands she fiddled with the hem of her sleeve, avoiding eye-contact with him.

“Don’t be sorry, Feit. That… that was my fault. I should have been more careful,” she said sadly, “I’ll be sure not to do it again, you have my word,”

Feit took a breath and then swung his leg out, hooking it on Gwyneth’s legs and tripping her to fall on her back.

"Hah! Now we’re even." He didn’t want her treating him like a child, she was a mage, she used magic, it was a fact. He couldn’t let his fear control the friends he made.

"You two competing for the biggest bruised asses or something now?" Bull chuckled.

"Or something" Feit grinned and tried to kick out the Qunari’s legs repeatedly to no avail.

Gwyn yelped as she hit the ground. Ok, so obviously he was better now. Good! She was glad. His tripping her still hurt like heck though! Rubbing her sore ass, she rolled onto her side and saw what Feit was trying to do. A wide grin spread across her face as she hooked both her legs around one of Bull’s knees and pulled towards herself in an attempt to get him to at least drop to one knee. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t budge. Not even a little.

“Gyahhh curse you and your solid stance! And also curse my weak, flabby legs for their lack of strength,” she laughed, shaking a fist in Bull’s direction.

"Hyah!" Feit shouted in exertion.

"You two finished yet?" The Bull chuckled quizzically at their futile effort and bent down to grab their legs and haul the two of them upside-down in the air.

Gwyn squealed as the blood began rushing to her head. She wanted to squirm more than anything but she also didn’t want to be dropped on her head. There was a tickle of the back of her neck. A bug maybe? She reached up (down?) to swat it away. It was her hair! She hoped it hadn’t come completely free of its braid! Patting it down to check it, her fears were confirmed. Frizz. Frizz everywhere. Mortified, she turned to her partner in crime and the look on his face was priceless. Unable to contain it, she began laughing hard.

“Oh Maker! Feit! Your… your face!” she cackled.

"I think it this was a bad idea" Feit groaned.

"Bad for you maybe, I’m having a great time." Bull laughed and lowered them to the ground.

When righted, Feit noticed the mop of frizzed hair that shot in all directions from Gwyn’s head and began laughing again.

"Wow that is an amazing sight, reminds me of a dragon’s fireball shooting at my face! Spectacular!" The Bull stared in awe at Gwyn’s hair.

Gwyn’s face turned a shade of red that rivaled her hair. She felt the panic setting in. They were staring. Feit was laughing. This was the worst! The worst! Gwyn generally didn’t care about her appearance. She didn’t feel particularly self conscious about any part of her body. Except her hair. Her uncontrollable, poofy, atrocious hair! She dropped to her knees, looking around desperately for her hair-tie in the grass.

“D-don’t look at me! Help me find my hair-tie… I-I don’t … please don’t look at it, it’s horrible!” she fretted.

Feit sat up suddenly, he didn’t realise she was self-conscious about her hair, he really shouldn’t have laughed so hard…

"Gwyn, what are you talking about?! Your hair is amazing! I didn’t mean to laugh, I was just surprised, that’s all. It was so neat before and then… It’s amazing!" he stumbled over his words in his rush.

"Yeah, gorgeous. You shouldn’t hide it so much." The Bull added

Gwyn’s face was so heated up at this point, she was expecting her skin to start melting off any second. Amazing? Gorgeous? _These two._

“I… thank you for your kind words but you don’t have to say those things to make me feel better… I know how it looks…” she drifted off.

She had been told multiple times how unruly and horrid her hair looked when it was down. By both friends, Senior Enchanters and Templars alike. It was an identifier. Once anyone saw her with her hair down she’d only be recognised by that from then onwards. She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding when she found her hair tie. She quickly began to tie her hair back up when it tore in half. Shit. Now the ribbon was too short to even wrap around it once. She knew she should carry around spares! She groaned loudly.

"I guess I don’t have a choice but to keep it down now…" she said sadly.

"but… it really is beautiful,” Feit mumbled.

"If you feel uncomfortable, then it’s your choice." The Bull said with a smile and a shrug.

"Er, yeah. Here take this one," pulling his own tie from his braid which came loose, smooth, wavy black hair fell about his shoulders. "Sorry."

Gwyn felt like she was going to cry.

“Oh Feit… don’t be sorry! You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, I’m just… thank you,” she said taking the tie from him, “I’ll find another one and do it up for you again, promise!”

With quick efficiency, she had it up in a more intricate braid than before. She immediately felt a thousand times better.

“I’m sorry I must look stupid, reacting in such a way about hair of all things it’s just… when you’re told something is a certain way your entire life it can be a little difficult to believe when somebody claims the opposite. Maybe one day I’ll let it out but… today is not that day,” she said, looking down at her hands.

"It’s okay, I completely understand that." Feit thought about all the times he was called clumsy, unlucky, stupid, knife-ear. It was something he’d decided he had to learn to block out, otherwise he might end up consumed by it.

 

* * *

 

Aphel felt terrible about drenching Josephine’s beautiful carpet, but it couldn’t be avoided.

“Where do you get all these things Josephine? I didn’t know you collected wax seals.” she said as thumbed through the leather-bound book sat on the night stand next to a lavish Antivan bed.

"I don’t see how you could, I don’t invite everyone into my chambers," called Josephine from inside her closet.

Celeste giggled at that as she waited behind the changing screen. Her leather coat had been an absolute nightmare to wear around but it was simply too heavy to just carry in her arms. She couldn’t have jumped out of the thing quicker. Her only hope now was that her underwear would dry enough to at least be comfortable to wear again.

She poked her head out from the side of the screen and noticed Josephine laying out a few different outfits on the bed. As usual, all of them were on point, Josie had impeccable taste after all. She’d helped dress Celeste for parties and soirees more times than you could count. Celeste grinned evilly to herself. It was time to rile her up a little.

“So, Josie, I noticed you eyeing Andre in the courtyard before. Have you worked up the courage to tell him yet?” Celeste teased her friend.

"T-tell him? I’m sure I don’t know what you are referring to, we only spoke a few times… though he has certainly… grown quite handsomely since the last time we… no that truly is not important. I was just thinking how… fine a figure your brother has as a man of the sword. Here, you should fit these well, and these for you Celeste."

Josephine handed each of them a pile and continued her sorting to find something for Aphel for the coming journey.

Aphel looked to Celeste quizzically but only received a vague giggle.

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, Josie.” Celeste began after stifling her laughter.

She unfolded the bundle and began sorting out what article of clothing to put on first. It was so much fun teasing her! Josie was always so refined and well mannered, making her blush and stammer was just delightful.

“ _Fine a figure?_ You were staring straight at his… oh how did you put it? ‘Pleasantly Curvaceous Rear’?”

Ok. So maybe Josie had drunk a few too many glasses of wine when she told Celeste about her little crush. It had made for hilarious conversation that’s for sure.

"It’s not my fault! Andre is a very well mannered man and we get along, what’s wrong with the fact that I enjoy his engaging intercourse? I MEAN CONVERSATION!" Josephine waved her hands while her cheeks turned a bright pink. "His rear has nothing to do with our relationship.. friendship.. acquaintance… I’m just going to smother myself."

Celeste cackled uncontrollably. This was just too good! Mission accomplished! She’d flustered the woman enough for one day. Celeste would look back on this moment with great fondness. She finished dressing and stepped out from behind the screen, allowing Aphel to step behind it to change.

“Well mannered? Have you _met_ my brother? He’s the exact opposite of well mannered! I’m pretty sure there’s only a handful of parties he’s been to where he _hasn’t_ gotten into a fight.” she clapped a hand on Josephine’s shoulder “There’s nothing wrong with liking my brother, Josie. In fact, I fully support you going after him. Maker knows, you’d be a good influence.”

Josephine sighed, so there was no point trying to hide her… affections anymore.

"He just has a light trigger, you’re probably right though, he always seems to behave so well with me."

Aphel nudged at Josephine’s shoulder before ducking quickly back behind the screen, “someone will have to tame that ball of fury.”

Celeste giggled lightly.

“Those parties I mentioned? The ones without him getting into a fight? Every single one of them - you were there. I don’t know what it is Josie, but when you’re around him you’re like… ‘the sun melting the snow off the roof at the beginning of spring.’”

Those were his own words. He was a terrible poet. She bit her lip. She wanted to tell Josephine so bad. She knew her brother liked her too but Celeste was a firm believer in receiving the truth from the source, not through second hand accounts – especially when it came to love. So instead she just smiled. They would come together, in their own time. Or else she would have to lock the two of them in a room together for a while.

"You…He…" Josephine covered her face and dashed from the room "I’ve got work to do!!!!"

Aphel and Celeste both fell into fits of laughter at the muffled yelling.

"That is frankly adorable and you are a scoundrel for teasing her so." The elf chuckled.

Her new clothes were luxuriously hot pressed and she could still smell the scented laundry soap clinging to the fibres as she tugged them over her head. The silk brocade tunic was tied firmly with a leather cincher and the ram-leather pants were a little tight and hugged her skin but were warm and soft.

And she wasn’t given shoes. Josephine was a gem.

Celeste giggled evily.

“I couldn’t help myself! She’s such an easy target! They were his words though, not mine… I would have been way more charming… I mean describing himself as a roof? He’s not got a way with words, that one” she said cheerily.

She ran her hands down the front of her fresh silk blouse, brushing off dust that did not exist. Josie knew exactly what she felt comfortable in, she really would have to thank her properly later on. Aphel looked wonderful though. That ensemble really complimented her… well everything really. Smiling to herself, she closed the space between herself and Aphel and pulled the smaller woman in for a deep kiss.

“I’ll happily take the title of scoundrel though, I think it suits me rather well…”

Aphel gratefully let herself be drawn in and swept up.

“I keep telling you that. But unfortunately you look far too beautiful for the life of a scoundrel, come be the bride of a Dalish instead, well live in aravel and scare human children. I’ll even draw on your face, they’ll never know you were a highborn lady.”

Celeste sucked in her breath slightly at the mention of being a bride. Her? Get married? She couldn’t even picture it. Her in a wedding dress? With a bouquet? Veil? Exchanging vows? Maybe Dalish weddings were different. Did Aphel care for her that much? She internally shook her head. It was just a joke, she shouldn’t take these things to seriously. She quickly flashed her a smile, after all she didn’t want to ruin this moment with her commitment issues.

“I think the ears would give it away, dear,” she giggled, planting another kiss on her lips.

Aphel giggled and played her a thumb on Celeste’s brow, “You looked so serious there for a moment, relax Cel, try not to think too much. You don’t need to right now. Now let’s go see how this brother of yours is doing. Honestly I’m worried about that man. Julien I mean.”

She swept up the pack full of clothing Josephine had arranged for her during the trip and the two of them walked hip to hip.

 

* * *

 

“Dorrrrr, now isn’t a good time…” Julien giggle-whined, playfully swatting at the mage in question.

He had been innocently retrieving Cupcake’s favoured reins from the upper level of the stables when Dorian had ambushed him. Now the two of them were on the floor nestled in a pile of hay, the mage attacking Julien’s neck with his lips. Honestly, this man picked the worst times to start getting lascivious. They would be leaving within the hour! Anyone could come up here at any time or, perhaps even worse, the entire courtyard would be able to hear them should Julien let things go any further. This was ten times worse than the library situation! He tried to push Dorian away but the man’s grip was too tight. Great.

"Bah, when is it a good time I ask you? Though we did do it this morning… and last night… I feel now is also good, but if you insist; tell me you want me to stop.” Dorian purred into Julien’s neck as he gripped the man’s leg that was wrapped around his thigh which pressed intently and teasingly into Julien’s crotch.

Julien swallowed hard.

“Look, its not that I don’t want to its just… well there are people everywhere! You know I’m not exactly the most… quiet person in the world. People could hear us or someone could come up here and…” he trailed off.

Being this close to Dorian was absolutely intoxicating and the mage freaking knew it. When they were like this, Julien felt as if he would pass out from the sensation of just feeling him and smelling him and just being near him. He wanted nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and have him again but… he was finding it very difficult to actually say the words.

Dorian ran his tongue along the shell of his ear and received the reward of a sharp intake of breath. “Then let me give you fellatio amatus, we’ll be on the road for days.”

He pressed again with his thigh and spread gentle kisses across Julien’s stubbly jaw. Was it so bad that he needed the reassurance? He thought he had watched Julien die in his arms and the memory was a poison dart in his mind. Last night he’d dreamt he was too late and his lover had died in a pool of warm sticky blood, all the while spluttering his name as Dorian struggled to crawl towards him, legs useless, trapped and doomed to watch Julien die. To say it was one of his worst dreams would not be exaggerating. Including those he’d had after his father’s attempted blood ritual.

Julien could tell there was something he was missing. Dorian only behaved like this occasionally. The past couple of days, he’d been borderline desperate. There was something else going on here, only Julien hadn’t the foggiest what it could be. He cupped his boyfriend’s cheek gently, running his thumb over the corner of his mouth fondly with a small smile on his face. This man was such a bad influence on him. He released a mock sigh and kissed him softly.

“Ok fine but we must be quick, we don’t want to give them enough time to send a search party,” he laughed quietly.

Dorian smiled wickedly and leant in for a fevered, lust filled kiss as his hands roamed lower to release Julien from his pants. He tasted the familiar sharp, lingering sweetness on Julien’s tongue that reminded him of cheesecakes and began drooling at the thought of tasting other parts of his lover.

"*Festis bei umo canavarum."  _You'll be the death of me._

Julien knew he’d made a mistake as soon as their mouths had connected. He let out an audible moan at the mere sensation of Dorian’s hands on his hips. One of his own hands shot up to cover his mouth. Blackwall _lived_ downstairs! All he had to do was look up and he’d see them through the hole in the centre of the upper floor. This was probably one of the worst decisions Julien had made in his entire life and he’d made some pretty shitty decisions! If he had any sense, he’d stop all this now. It was only going to end in either embarrassment or … nope mostly just horrible, horrible embarrassment. All notions of sense, however, flew out the window when Dorian planted a kiss on his stomach.

"Mane mecum," _stay with me,_ He whispered and kissed the tender skin below Julien’s navel, "te… amo."  _my... love._

Dorian faltered at that, suddenly stinging eyes and shallow breath’s causing him to still and press his face into Julien’s stomach. What was this? He couldn’t be crying, he didn’t cry! He drunk liberally and made awful snide remarks but never would he… His thoughts were jolted sideways with the choking sob that rocked through him and he bit his fingers into Julien’s sides.

Well this was a complete one-eighty. Was Dorian… crying? Where did this come from? What did he say? Julien sat up slightly, expression completely overwhelmed with worry. Dorian wasn’t even looking at him, if anything he’d buried his face further. Julien ran his hands through Dorian’s silky hair and massaged his scalp a little.

“What’s wrong?” he asked gently.

Dorian was the strong one out of the two of them. Julien had cried into his shoulder more times than he cared to count but never once had Dorian wept in front of him. To say he was simply concerned would be a vast understatement.

Dorian tried to stop, tried to calm himself but each attempt pushed him further and further until he realised there would be not simple end to this unless he allowed himself to be upset. Julien had almost _died_. He sobbed painfully and cursed violently and pulled Julien impossibly close with his arms trembling, encircling his torso.

"I… I love you Julien."

Julien’s eyes widened and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Love? Did he just say he loved him? Love as in… _love_ -love? Was this real? This felt like it was too good to be true. He’d avoided saying the L word for as long as he could. He’d… had a bad experience with it before and to be honest that wound was still very fresh. But this time was different, right? Dorian had said it first! Julien felt tears welling up in his eyes, stinging them as they formed. A sob ripped from his throat. Dorian had said it first! That meant this was real, what they had was real. His sobbing became more violent as he buried his face in Dorian’s neck.

“I love you too” he whimpered out quietly, the sound muffled further by Dorian’s flesh.

Hearing Julien return the testament had his heart pounding, Dorian pulled back the barest amount to look in his bold green eyes. “I’m a bloody mess thanks to you, don’t you ever get in so much danger again. Look at me, crying like a baby. All your fault…”

Though his words were frustrated and angry, truly he was more relieved. He’d finally spoke his true feelings, genuine and, maker knew, rare. And Julien returned them almost immediately. He’d suspected Julien was not the type to say something that important so easily so he couldn’t help but treasure the way the words caressed across his ears in a whispered breath.

Julien laughed quietly and kissed at Dorian’s cheeks, smooching away all the tears.

“I’ll endeavour to not die on you, so long as you do the same for me,” he said quietly in-between kisses.

So, his near death experience was the cause of all this fussing. Really he should have seen that coming, it was quite obvious in hindsight. He just hadn’t realised it had effected him so… fiercely. Julien smiled against Dorian’s skin, an idea forming in his mind. He let one of his hands roam down to rest against his lover’s crotch.

“Let me make it up to you?” he asked cheekily.

"Oh fuck." Dorian groaned as his eyes fluttered closed. Yep, he was still incredibly turned on.

Julien sat and had Dorian sitting up on a hay bale in moments, looking shyly up at him while his hands stroked the growing hardness. Dorian’s hands clutched at the hay until Julien opened his pants and then they firmly worked through those amber locks.

Julien had to laugh. This was so bizarre. It was usually Dorian that did this kind of thing to him, not the other way around. Not to say he hadn’t done this before just… not with Dorian. He suddenly felt a little apprehensive. It had been a while, what if he wasn’t any good? He certainly didn’t want to disappoint his lover. He closed his eyes for a moment and just concentrated on the fingers in his hair. Maybe it didn’t matter how good he was in the end. He had a feeling Dorian just appreciated the gesture and attention in the end – there was no pressure here. That was… comforting.

Perhaps now would be a good time for a little revenge for all the teasing this man was notorious for. Julien smiled impishly and pulled Dorian’s pants down further, so the Tevene’s thighs were exposed. He nuzzled his head into the side of his knee before working his way up to the apex, planting feather-light kisses on the sensitive inner skin as he went. Then he hovered his mouth over the part Dorian was most eager for before passing over it completely, instead opting to repeat his previous actions down the other thigh.

"Oooh you bloody tease." Dorian chuckled and moaned desperately and wiped at his eyes to clear the last of his tears. "You’ve never… are you sure you want to do this? I didn’t know if you ever… well I didn’t know if you liked giving fellatio…"

He blushed obscenely at his rushed words but kept his eyes on Julien who’s breath tickled over the skin of his penis making Dorian’s throat constrict. Julien’s response was just a wider smile. He decided to keep it a mystery - leave more to the imagination and all that. Still, Dorian’s moaning was _delightful_. The outright thirst in the noises he was making was intoxicating. And to think – he hadn’t even touched him there yet. He licked his lips. Not breaking eye contact he leaned forward and, using only the slightest touch, slowly dragged his tongue up his lover’s length. His mouth retreated once he reached the tip, going back immediately to kissing thighs. The archer’s hands found their way to chocolaty hips, resting at the junction between torso and legs, just shy of where they were wanted. The closeness of them was at the precipice of pure torture and Dorian’s mouth silently popped open when Julien began kissing his stomach again.

"I- I thought- we were meant to be- quick-" Dorian cried between gasps.

To which Julien replied by wrapping arms around Dorian’s thighs, lifting them off the ground and over his shoulders- causing Dorian to slide down into an extremely submissive position while Julien continued to nuzzle with the barest of touches to Dorian’s abdomen.

"Would you stop teasing me or I’ll pass out right here from the lack of blood to my head!"

Julien leaned forward and ceased the whining with a sloppy, lustful kiss. He was right, they were on a strict time-limit but all this fussing was going to attract the attention of someone downstairs. He broke away with a quiet chuckle and a soft shhhh.

“Sush, do you want to be discovered before I… tend to you?” Julien breathed quietly into his ear.

Going back to a more comfortable position, Julien figured he couldn’t drag this out for much longer, lest the mage freeze his breeches, literally. He ran a hand down his stomach and curled it around the base of Dorian’s shaft tightly, letting his thumb stroke the underside a little. Julien took a moment to just lean his head against Dorian’s knee at look at his lover. His _lover_. He couldn’t believe this. That he loved someone this much and that affection was returned, wholeheartedly. Surely this man he was tangled up with would turn into a desire demon at any moment or Julien would wake up and find this to be all a dream. He smiled at him warmly, hoping Dorian knew at least a fraction of how much his words had meant to him.

Well. Enough of this dilly-dallying. Leaving the warmth of the knee, he leaned forward and drew Dorian into his mouth.

 

* * *

 

Cullen was beginning to think no one was actually going to the Free Marches any more seeing as the only other person around was Rainier, Cremicius and a Dalish apostate who had finished loading everything and were now playing what appeared to be a betting game involving throwing a dagger and hitting a leaf from a tree. After watching them for a while he wondered if he could have a go of it and was about to approach the mercenaries when Celeste and Aphel waltzed towards him looking refreshed and outfitted in new clothing and… wet hair?

"Welcome back, good to see you looking more relaxed Lady Celeste. You as well Aphel."

Celeste giggled to herself. Oh he had no idea just how relaxed she was.

“It’s good to be back, Commander. How goes the pack-” she stopped mid sentence after glancing around the yard properly.

Oh. It seems they had been away for quite a while then, everything looked to be in order.

“Damn, you’re efficient,” she said with a broad smile, patting him on the shoulder, “where is everyone though? This place is practically deserted!”

"I… I was meant to be keeping track of people wasn’t I?" Cullen sighed and dropped his shoulders, defeated.

"They'll turn up Curly," Aphel playfully slapped the man on the shoulder and he stumbled forward slightly as she put her hand to her chin thoughtfully. "Actually, have you seen Julien or Andre? Oh I should fetch Sola-"

Solas suddenly appeared carrying a small pack and and some books under his arm. “Aneth ara, vhenan.”

“Andre said he needed to speak with Josephine about something so I directed him toward her office and as for the Inquisitor, last I saw him he was heading into the stables for a lead or something. That Dracolisk of his was getting ornery and he said he had just the thing for her…” Cullen said, trailing off at the end.

Celeste was smiled at him warmly. He’d kept tabs on everyone while doing all this work by himself. She admired his dedication and skill and almost felt bad about slacking off while he did it. Almost being the key word in that statement.

“Which books are those, Solas? Anything interesting?” she asked, tearing her eyes away from Cullen to focus on him.

Solas looked at her, a little surprised at being asked.

“There were some new books I hadn’t seen before, this one regarding Tevinter blood rituals may be of use and another I discovered regarding Templar abilities.”

Aphel stepped over to him and took his heavy pack, swinging it over her shoulder with ease. “Sounds like they could be useful.”

“’Tevinter Blood Rituals’? That sounds a little… ominous,” Celeste said, trying to sound amused but failing spectacularly.

She’d wanted to avoid thinking about what her mother was probably doing right now but this brought brought all of that to the front of her mind. Was her Mother even capable of such a thing? She didn’t want to believe so, but Andre’s seriousness when he spoke of Captain Marlow’s death indicated otherwise. Although, he didn’t specify it was her that dealt the killing blow… perhaps? No. She was being foolish. Her mother had deceived them all.

“I suppose it’s better to read through it and know what you’ll be up against, rather than going in blind.” Cullen said, placing a hand on Celeste’s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Celeste thought she heard a yelping noise from the stables but that was impossible, all of the mounts were out here on in the courtyard. Where else could the sound have come from? Nobody else reacted to it so she wrote it off as her imagination.

“I suppose you are right, although the topic is a little… dark don’t you think?”

"There are far darker things than blood magic." Solas commented. "Shall we soon depart?"

"Ahh, you are all here, good. Oh, where’s Jules?" Andre came striding forward with a face as red as a cherry and Josephine trotting a little ahead.

"We were… just catching up." Josephine coughed. "I believe all of the chargers are settled with The Iron Bull, Gwyneth and Feit. They are ready when you give the order to leave."

“He’s missing in action apparently! I’m more concerned about you, ‘Dre, your face is so red! Did you get sunburned?” Celeste asked with mock ignorance.

She smirked impishly. It was pretty obvious what had happened. After the conversation they had with Josie earlier, how could it not be that? She had to tease her brother when such opportunities presented themselves. He was far too much of an ass to be spared a little embarrassment.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m not red!” he snapped back, face getting more and more heated as the others turned to stare at him, “And what do you mean missing in action?! We… we need to go… stop looking at me!”

Celeste cackled loudly. This was the first time she’d seen him react to embarrassment by covering his face with his hands rather than smashing chairs on people’s heads.

Cullen shifted from foot to foot. “Someone please just go look for The Inquisitor and Dorian. He does this all the time, I’m certain he’ll be up in the rafters somewhere trying to escape all of his fans.”

"The rafters?" Aphel choked "I guess that whole "being followed constantly" was worse than I’d imagined."

"Oh yes he is up. Dorian too. They are very happy to be up high, away from everyone," Cole chattered in his sing-song voice, swinging his legs over a cart, "they don’t ever want to come down."

Andre calmed himself and rolled his eyes.

“Ugh, escaping responsibility again. That does sound like him,” he grunted before turning to Cole, “You know where they are then?”

Cole nodded.

“Point the way.”

 

* * *

 

Julien hummed while he worked at Dorian’s hardness, the sensations causing Dorian to bite hard into the hand Julien had held against his mouth. The red-head flinched and yelped a little. That was going to leave one heck a mark. A cascade of muffled apologies flowed from the Tevene as he kissed against the bite and Julien decided to forgive him, just this once. It was his fault after all. The mage was so close now, it was proving to be quite the challenge to keep him quiet. He’d gotten a little too rowdy earlier and without the presence of a pillow, this was the only way to muffle him without shoving straw into his mouth.

Dorian’s world was as empty as the straw he clutched tightly with balled fists, his legs wrapped around Julien’s neck.

Julien felt his jaw ache slightly but knew from the pitch of Dorian’s muffled groans he wouldn’t be long. With his free hand he stoked and massaged the mage’s balls and sucked the head against his pallate, drawing an even louder sound than before. But instead of chastising him again, Julien increased his tempo, ignoring the mild pain flaring up in his shoulder.

"*Venhedis, dulce duesssaahhh!" Dorian cried out his orgasm. "Oh MAKER! JULES!"

Andre almost fell down the stairs. He did NOT need to see that! He quickly covered his eyes with his hands and slammed his eyelids shut with all the force they could muster. There would not be enough years left in his life span for the therepy required for him to get over **_that_**. Turning his head from the spectacle, he waved a hand down the stairs, indicating to his guide they should clear out.

“Oh maker! Oh shit! I-I’m sorry I just- J-JULIEN! WE’RE LEAVING SOON!” he shouted as he fled down the stairs, dragging Cole by the arm as he went.

Julien felt his face burn up to such a degree it must have matched his hair colour. The timing could not have been worse. He could never leave his spot. He would just bury himself in the hay and become one with the horse chow. The absolute mortification. He felt like he was going to be sick. He swallowed quickly and buried his face in Dorian’s stomach, groaning as he went. He was never going to live this down.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doodle-dilly-dallying XD
> 
> Festis bei umo canavarum: You'll be the death of me  
> Mane mecum: Stay with me  
> Te amo: I love you  
> Venhedis, dulce dues(ssaahhh): Fuck, sweet maker
> 
> There will be a little break before an interim chapter will be released before moving on to the next part. Thanks for all your support and please let us know your opinions and reviews.
> 
> ~Kim & Kill


	22. Parting ways and coming together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intermission 1/1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a short interim to give a little more development of characters and relationships currently standing. We'd be very pleased to see any comments and reviews from you guys.  
> ~Kim and Kill

Having Feit beside her now, Aphel let herself watch him; the way his hands moved wildly when he spoke, the way he almost always appeared to be smiling, and those light blue eyes that flicked here and there as they discovered something new in every moment. Aphel had almost forgotten these little things about her younger brother in the year or so she’d spent as the Herald of Andraste. Sure they’d spent long periods of time apart in the past, but when he’d been dead, it was like and ink spilled over all of her good memories of him and the rest of her family. Their faces and voices becoming ever more difficult to recall, no matter how much she tried.

“We had that one with us all summer, didn’t we Apple?”

Aphel blinked in confusion and gave a vague noise to answer his question.

“Mm”

Feit kept his eyes on her for a moment longer as though seeing through her façade, but soon enough went back to his conversation with Gwyneth.

“Keeper loved the scamp really, I could tell, but our Halla mother was in a wild rage about keeping wolves.”

“Wow that must have been amazing!” Gwyn said with stars in her eyes, “I can't even imagine keeping a cat let alone a wolf! I don't imagine they'd be as simple as keeping a Mabari... not that keeping a Mabari is easy... What was it like? Did you name it?”

Honestly, Gwyn loved Feit's little stories. He'd led such an interesting life, she couldn't even being to fathom all the amazing things he must have done and seen. Being able to live freely in the forest with all the animals and plants and stuff must be... she sighed happily at the thought. She'd have to ask him to show her his clan someday, if she was allowed to that is. Did the Dalish allow visitors? She hoped so. The things she could learn! That was probably a little presumptuous of her, now that she thought about it. They'd only known each other for a scant few days - she was getting waaayyyy ahead of herself here. 

“Well yes, and no. I didn’t name them… but I liked to call her Leilei. I didn’t really keep her either, she just stayed with us and followed me about. I suppose she liked having me around.”

Aphel recalled the young wolf sat in Feit’s lap that summer, gnawing at his fingers while his other hand would pat and pat its head until the thing fell asleep on his legs. It was curious now that she could remember that, while their mother’s face became so blurry. From the corner of her eye she spotted Cullen and Celeste chatting while attending one horse, pausing to joke and laugh, then moving on to the next. The moved so easily together she wished she could know what the where talking about.

* * *

“I had no idea the Inquisitor was such a...” Cullen laughed, searching his mind for the word he was looking for.

“Imp? Rascal? Rapscallion?” Celeste said doing her best impression of her father before bursting out into more giggles, “He was certainly one to watch when he was younger. He wasn't allowed anywhere near the stables after that... I have no idea where he even found laxatives strong enough to effect that big old mare!”

She enjoyed joking around with him like this. In the short time she'd been here, she'd heard rumours that the Commander never smiled. It was a shame really. He had such a lovely smile... and such a dorky laugh! It was adorable

“Well, I'm certainly glad he's grown out of it then. I'd hate to see him and Sera team up,” he shuddered at the thought before moving on to the next horse.

“So... Cullen,” Celeste began, not sure where she was going with this, “What do you plan on doing after all of this is over? The whole Corypheus thing I mean. Eventually all the Rifts will be closed and I assume the Inquisition will dissolve. Will you go back home? To... Feeee...reld...an?”

She realized she had no idea where he was from exactly. His accent was clearly Fereldan, she thought. Maybe? 

He mussed his short curls nervously.

“Well it isn’t of a great fascination, but I did come from Honnleath.”

Celeste let out a little Ahh and nodded her head. She had no idea where that was – she'd never heard of it. He chuckled.

“It's is a village in south-western Ferelden. Very small. Not as impressive as Ostwick, I'm sure.” He said, keeping his eyes on the horse in front of him.

“Maybe you should come.” Celeste said, trying to sound as casual as she could.

He turned to her with a thoroughly confused look on his face. Shit. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything? Or perhaps elaborating would be useful. She groaned internally. What was wrong with her when she was around this man? He had the unique ability to make her fumble over her words completely.

“To Ostwick I mean. Sometime. Maybe. If you want... I could... Did I just make this awkward?” she coughed nervously, hoping she hadn't made him uncomfortable.

“Oh! Yes, I certainly would enjoy the travel, if my work would allow it of course. There are few opportunities for me to step away from my desk recently. Even today has been… one of a kind, this time with you and the others has been a relaxing breath. er, My Lady. May I ask you what you did back in your home town?”

“I help run our family affairs – you know attending social events, setting up business deals and things of that nature. Andre does a lot of the paperwork side of things for me when he's not working so it’s not so bad,” she repeated her usual spiel.

He nodded slowly and continued checking the horses. She bit her lip and decided to voice something she'd kept to herself. He was trustworthy, she felt, and he probably wouldn't judge her for what she was about to say.

“I'd rather do something more... Productive I suppose?” she said, feeling a little apprehensive about saying it, “I'm expected to do all of these things. To keep things the way they are. It's... well it's quite dull if I’m perfectly honest. I'd rather be out scouting Elven ruins or... Or... Making dresses... or something. I want to leave a mark on the world somehow... not just be Celeste Trevelyan – that one who got married and secured a good trade deal.”

Cullen took a second look at her after hearing that. She was a noble and she didn’t want to be?

 “That is fascinating.” he murmured, then after a few seconds on stunned staring he caught himself and coughed, looking back down at his hands on the straps of the horse’s bridle. “I- forgive me. That was an odd thing to say. I’ve just never heard someone say something like that before. Not coming from someone of your birth anyhow.”

She flushed a little.

“It’s... I've never voiced it before but it’s how I feel. I know it's kind of stupid. Being the first born of a noble family? A lot of people would revel in it but I... I'm not cut out for it, I don't think.” She shuffled a little awkwardly on the spot, “I mean, I understand that I’m quite privileged and I have it a lot better than other folks but I... I'd just like to forge my own future, I guess? I don't want my life planned out for me... I'd like to have real friends and not just people trying to mooch money off me. I'd like to have somebody come in and swoop me off my feet because they like me rather than pursue me because I’m an heiress. I'd like to pick where I live, how I live and what I do...”

She released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. It was a relief to get off of this off her chest. She realised she'd talked about herself this entire time. How rude!

“I'm sorry, I've ranted enough for now, I think. Practically talked your ear off...” she apologised.

“No I’ve enjoyed it, really.” Cullen smiled openly at her.

“Like the breasts of robins fluttering about, or the autumn leaves glowing with sun shining through them into my eyes.”

“Oh. Hello Cole.” Cullen grimaced. Please, please don’t say something strange. He begged inside his mind and looked back and forth between the boy as he dawdled around them and Celeste’s brilliant red hair.

Celeste giggled nervously at Cole's presence. This boy was strange – had some way of getting into people's heads and root out what they were thinking. She didn't need him to say anything incriminating. Although, what he had said was interesting – very interesting. 'Breasts of Robins'? 'Autumn Leaves'? Red, then? Like her hair. Was that what Cullen was thinking? Or just somebody nearby? It could have been Aphel. She was sitting near enough – just out of earshot. 

“What was that about, Cole?” Celeste asked, genuinely curious.

“He did always like it, the colour red.” Cole tilted his head and moved behind Cullen till he fell out of Celeste’s line of sight. The brim of his large hat the only part peeking out from Cullen’s bulky fur pauldrons. “Is it warm? Is it soft? Would he mind it? Just surprised, he might even laugh. His bubbly laughter is always gone too quickly, floats in bursts and makes simple things shine.”

She blushed and averted her gaze. Oh dear. Oh maker. It was his thoughts then. He liked her hair? That was... her hair? Most men complimented her on other parts of her body not her- this felt a little wrong. Like an invasion of his privacy. And her privacy. She did not need Cole to make this anymore awkward than she already had. His pauldrons did fascinate her though. At first the thing looked atrocious – a complete fashion disaster. But it had grown on her... as must as she hated to admit it. She shook her head. Not the point! Point was, she should probably shoo the boy away before he dug too deep into their minds.

“C-Cole I don't think you should.... that is, this is...” she stammered, unable to get her point across at all.

“Oh Maker, Cole! Please stop.” Cullen begged with his hands on either side of his head, trying not to listen.

“Is it bad? Isn’t it helping? But it’s easier now, is that wrong?” Cole slipped away from them as quickly as he arrived without even waiting for an answer.

“I am so sorry. He- he does that. Julien really likes him, a most curious young man.”

“I-It's quite alright. Curious indeed! How does he...? Never mind, I think I'm better off not knowing...” she said, “Julien did always like the weird ones.”

Biting her lip slightly, she stepped closer to him and hesitantly raised her hand. What Cole had said had rekindled her curiosity. She wanted to touch the pauldrons and get this weird obsession out of her mind already so they could both move on.

“May I?” she asked, letting her hand hover over the fur.

His eyes grew a little wide, was she actually going to? He chuckled in that way that made his eyes crinkle and smirked at her.

“Yes, you may.”

She smiled widely at him and suppressed an excited squeal as she closed the distance, lacing her fingers delicately through the dark tufts of the unidentifiable fur. It was... surprisingly soft, more so than she'd envisioned. He must wash it often then. She wondered if got a servant to do it or he did it himself. The image of him kneeling by a bucket of soapy water or down by a river, scrubbing away at it made her laugh a little. It was such a... domestic act, it was strange to imagine him doing it. Her mind wandered to other mundane things he may or may not do. Could he cook?  She looked up at him to ask how he got it so soft but was distracted by the scar on his upper lip - she hadn't noticed it before. It looked like it would have been quite painful. Her thoughts were forced from her head when Andre came storming past, the look on his face was one of utter mortification. What had he done or seen in there?

He ignored her shout out for further explanation and made a bee line to Pumpkin, who was grazing by herself near the portcullis. He knew his brother and that mage were involved but he didn't think they were... he shuddered at the fresh memory. The embarrassment he felt right now was one of the worst instances of his life. He should have just called from the bottom of the stairs! Why didn't Cole warn him?! Argh! He quickly grabbed a brush from the saddle bag on the ground and began furiously grooming Pumpkin, hoping to drive that thought from his mind.

After a few moments of brushing sternly, pumpkin to began making sounds and nuzzling at his straw-coloured hair. Then a pair of hands pinching his sides made him jump and hang on to the horse.

“It’s me, Dre.” Gwyn giggled as he gained his feet again. “You’ve really got a grip on that brush there, what’s up?”

He turned to her quickly, fully intent on telling her off for sneaking up on him but found he couldn't once he saw her happy expression. Letting out a shaky sigh he smiled a little and shook his head.

“I'm just getting Pumpkin groomed and ready to go before we leave,” he said, avoiding telling her was he saw, “Is your horse ready?”

“Um… probably. But, I just can’t believe I’m actually here, outside, with you and everyone. Isn’t that just amazing? I can’t tell you how much I dreamed about this. Sometimes I feel like it all just has to be a dream or something.”

He smiled at her sadly. That was his fault. She hadn't experienced any freedom like this because of what he did. The real sad thing, however, was that he would do it again. In a heartbeat. Who knows if she'd even be here now if he hadn’t? He couldn't tell her though, he was afraid she'd never speak to him again.

“I... I can't believe it either, Gwyn. I thought you died when the Ostwick Circle went down...”  

Hearing his voice break, Gwyn looked down at her feet. He was always so serious when it came to her safety, she really wished he could have a bit more fun.

“I’m fine, must we think about sad things at a time like this? I’m going to try learning to fight, isn’t that fantastic? Maybe we could practice together some time?”

He chuckled a little. Classic Gwyn, always looking on the lighter side of things.

“Oh? I'm glad for it! It's good you're expanding your talent pool, you'll be better prepared for anything that comes at you... I'm not sure you want to practice together with me, however.” he said, concerned he might hurt her if they got down to sparring.

He did tend to lose control when he fought. No one at the barracks back home even trained with him - too many guardsmen had ended up with broken arms. He glanced up at her and the downcast look on her face made him feel bad.

“I'm afraid I’ll hurt you, Gwyn. I can demonstrate things but I won't spar with you, okay?” he said as gently as he could.

She whined playfully at his careful answer.

“Dreee… come oonnn. Maybe I’m better than you think, huh? What if I turn out to be an amazingly talented fighter? I trust you Dre, like you would ever hurt me.”

Pumpkin whinnied and made to nuzzle Andre’s hair again and Gwyn laughed at the oddness of the scene. Andre grunted lightly at Pumpkin and pushed her head away gently. 

“It's not that simple, Gwyn. It not a matter of you trusting me or how good you are, its about me losin-” he was cut off by Pumpkin's snout nuzzling the side of his face.

He swatted her away again but she kept rubbing her head against his. With a defeated sigh, he ducked under her neck and began scratching at the large jagged scar that ran from her chest to her knee.

“As I was saying! You don't want to see me in a fight, Gwyn. Even if it is just sparring. I'm sorry, but it’s just the way it has to be. Maybe Cel can spar with you?” he suggested as his horse leaned over to sniff at Gwyn.

Gwyn sighed and stepped up to the great Destrier, stroking it gently along the jaw.

“Alright, if that’s really what you want.” That’s right, she hadn’t really talked to Celeste yet. “I think I’ll go ask her about it.”

As she left she wrapped her arms around Andre to give him a warm embrace. He hugged her back with a tight squeeze.   _It's not what I want... but it is for the best._

“It is good to have you here, Gwyn. We all missed you dearly.” he said before letting her go and patting her on the head.

Celeste was still helping Cullen with the horses, although they were almost done. She didn't want to leave. Skyhold was so much more exciting than Ostwick. She hadn't had the opportunity to explore it properly, damn it! She heard shuffling behind her and turned to see Gwyn trotting over.

“Oh, hey sis! What's going on?” she asked cheerily.

“Hi, Cel.”

So yes, she certainly felt strange around Celeste still. Not to mention Julien, whom she hadn’t even had a proper conversation with. It was… all so surreal. These were here brothers and sisters; her very own twin. Yet they were so unfamiliar. Celeste, as Gwyn remembered her, was wild and snarky and so confidant like a kitten. Here she was, taller, darker, and while her eyes held less of that outward passion Gwyn had been so admiring of, Celeste looked just as sleek, like a cat waiting patiently to prowl and purr and pounce at the right moment and snare its prey, in whatever form that may take.

“That man, the commander, right? The Iron Bull was helping me put names to faces earlier.”

Celeste nodded and glanced over at him, not too far away with his head turned form the two of them. 

“Yes. Hi name is Cullen. He's a fine man,” she said, letting her eyes linger a moment longer before turning back to Gwyn, “You've become rather good friends with him, haven't you? The Iron Bull I mean. I see you with him a lot is all.”

Her little sister. All grown up and still with that wild, untameable mess of hair. She looked so... different than when she'd known her – an not just in the physical sense. When she was young, Gwyneth had this impish look about her - a mischievous glint in her eye like she was always planning something. Now she looked well adjusted, if a little excitable. Celeste got the feeling she'd been forced to mature in her time in the Circle. That thought made her a little sad – she'd quite enjoyed her little pranks and found she rather missed them.

“Yes, I’d like to think we are. He has so many stories, I feel like I could spend days just asking him every little detail, and I bet he’d remember every bit too. Have you spoken to him? I’ve never met a Qunari before but he isn’t at all like they say.” In fact she’d found him intensely charming.

“I haven't yet, no. I've been...” Celeste glanced over in Aphel's direction briefly, “rather distracted. I'm sure I’ll get an opportunity to talk to him on the road though. I'm glad you're making friends, Gwyn. It's good to see you so happy.”

“It’s good to see you at all.” Gwyn jested.

Celeste winced at that.

“I-I tried to come see you but-” she lost her words.

She had tried! But Andre or her Father were always there to stop her! They'd said it was pointless to even try as the Templars would not have let her in! She glanced up to look at her and saw a light expression. Oh. She'd been joking? She had that glint in her eye. Celeste smiled a little and let out a sigh as she pulled her into a big hug.

“I've missed you.”

“I’ve really missed you too, sis.”

The moment was lighthearted and yet Gwyn felt a strange feeling, like the rush of air when a window is opened suddenly or the blinding light of the struck match in the midst of a dark room. Cel was her and they were sisters and there was not circle anymore. She nuzzled her face into Celeste’s shoulder, partly to remember her smell and her warmth but also to dry any stray tears. When they parted, Gwyn spotted Lysette off to the side, smiling at the two of them and Gwyn was thankful to have the Templar’s careful presence keeping her safe.

* * *

Julien still had not moved from his spot nuzzled against Dorian, wincing internally. He was far too mortified to even lift his head. Andre had... he'd... Argh! He'd never be able to look the man in the eye ever again! This was exactly what he had been afraid of as soon as they'd started doing this! They'd been careless! This was all one big horrible mistake!

“Can I just... open a rift and live in the Fade forever? I don't think I want to live on this plane of existence any more...” he groaned into Dorian's soft skin.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now.” Dorian sighed, his body was feeling warm and flushed, tingling as blood returned to his extremities, his fingers that mussed into Julien’s hair and down the curve of his neck. “You fit right here with me. Perhaps our display shall teach that brother of yours not to follow you about like you were a child?”

Julien groaned again and nestled some more, attempting to hide himself further. 

“After our 'display' I’ll be surprised if he even looks at me again, Dor.” he mumbled.

The entire situation kept playing over and over and over again in his head and he just couldn't shake it from his mind. The strangled cry his brother had let out – Julien had never heard such terror and chagrin from him, ever. To think they were the cause of such distress... well now that he thought about it he found it... pleasing? It was like the ultimate prank he could have pulled – nothing would top this. He giggled a little.

“Although... I could use that to my advantage...” 

A chuckle ran through Dorian’s chest at that and Julien’s could hear it echoing inside his torso.

“Ever the prankster? I do ofcourse appreciate that you and Sera haven’t dumped pig fat on me or sewn my pant legs up. That would be terribly displeasing.”

Julien raised his head to look at him and flash one of his dopey smiles.

“I've told her you are off limits. Any frogs in your bed and she'll find very angry bees in hers” he said followed by an impish cackle. 

“My hero. Alright, Amatus. We are expected somewhere currently.”

He pouted a little. The thought of heading now there right now wasn't an appealing one; that was for sure. But what other choice did they have really? Everyone was probably waiting on them right now and he didn't want to piss anyone off. Still, perhaps a moment longer wouldn't hurt.

Placing a hand on each of Dorian's thighs, he lifted himself up and placed a soft kiss on the man's lips, lingering for as long as he could manage.

When they finally stepped down together they chatted lightly and stepped up behind Celeste and Gwyn. The two women were swapping stories of juicy and lascivious affairs as Dorian overheard, and had him raising an eyebrow in curiosity, gesturing to Julien.

Julien gulped and shook his head subtly. He wasn't sure he wanted to know that stuff about his sisters! Before he had the chance to shuffle off undetected, Celeste noticed him and waved him over.

“Oh! Jules! There you are, I was about to tell Gwyn about your short-lived, almost-betrothal to Lady Niven! You should tell it though, you're a lot better at storytelling than I!” she said cheerily.

He took one look at Gwyn as she turned and felt a cold shiver pass through him. She was so... different. Almost completely foreign. She still had her freckles and those eyes were still as devious as he remember but... it'd been so long. He wasn't sure he knew what to say or do or even how to act around her anymore. And that made him feel incredibly awkward and guilty.

“I'd love to but I can't! I have to... go check on Cupcake! Another time, perhaps!” he blurted out before dashing off away from them all. Coward. He felt like a complete and utter coward.

So lost in his moment of self-loathing was he that he failed to notice Aphel standing in his path and tumbled into her.

“Well, aneth ara Julien. We haven’t flown into another reality have we? I really do hate when that happens.” She laughed and helped him rise. He appeared pale and bloodless as she looked up at his face, more so than usual. “What is the matter? Are you well?”

“Nothing! I-I am fine, Aphel,” he rather unconvincingly reassured her.

He dusted off his clothes quickly while he scoured his mind for an appropriate excuse to make.

“I just have a lot on my mind right now is all. I don't particularly enjoy being away from a soft bed for too long,” he jested to cover himself, “How about you? Are you well?”

Aphel frowned at him and began a stare down. 

“I won’t let you do that Julien.” she began and before continuing, led him off the gateway, up a fer steps and into some strange room that seemed to becurrently serving very little function other than storage for even more rubble. She leaned back against one wall that looked down over the gateway, and gestured for him to take a seat on some old stones. “Now… You promised you would talk to me. So I want to hear some truth from you. What is the matter?”

 He sighed deeply and shuffled uncomfortably, placing his face in his hands.

“It's... Well it's just a little overwhelming having everyone here. My family, I mean.”

Well, technically he wasn't lying. He was telling the truth here, he was just going to bring up something else. Something that had been on his mind the moment Celeste had arrived.

“I'm usually the 'problem child'. You know the 'irresponsible layabout'? The 'sibling that can't hold down a job'? Acting all leader-y in front of Celeste and Andre is just... stressful. It’s my one chance to prove to them I’m actually worth something and I'm worried I’ll bugger it up in front of them and...” be a massive disappointment or embarrassment.

“I see, you must be feeling under a lot of pressure then. I can understand a little of that, but you know, after all this,” She gestured to her marked hand and the sky, “to your family, they only want you to be safe and happy. I think even Andre does too. He has a very serious face, but it looks to me that what he cares the most about is you and your family’s safety. Do you remember how he appeared in my world?”

“Yes. All too well.”

The thought of Aphel's Andre broke his heart a little. He and Andre didn't get along very well but the pain his brother was experiencing at his loss was excruciating.

“That was him, what, a year or so after my death? I don't think my Andre is in the same place. He hates me. I'm afraid it's a you-don't-know-what-you've-got-till-it’s-gone deal with him,” he sighed before continuing, “If I fail to meet his expectations, I’m afraid he'll try to take the reins himself. He's notorious for just going over your head and doing things on your behalf if he thinks it’s for the best. I don't want him doing that here. It'll undermine my authority. I have to be better, try harder than I usually do... it’s exhausting.”

“Of course it is. Honestly I think I can understand him quite well.” Aphel grimaced a little, “I have been quite guilty of that myself with Feit. When he appeared here it was like I was getting a second chance, but I don’t know if I deserve that. I’ve really got to try to listen to him more.”

She could see him down there chatting to Krem and Blackwall, his smile infecting them so potently.

“What I’m trying to say is, that might not be something you can ever really change.”

He hissed in response, annoyed slightly by her words. He'd changed a lot over this past year, why couldn’t he? Even if it was just him easing up a little or even giving him some recognition for his acheiveme- no. He was getting side-tracked and a little heated with that train of thought. He shook his head dismissively.

“It must be an older sibling thing then,” he scowled a little, “Speaking of which, what are you planning with him? Feit, I mean. You going to just send him back to your clan when all of this is over?”

“Sorry.” She smiled sadly at him. “Maybe what I mean is he’ll still go crazy wanting to protect you, but he might learn to hold back a little eventually. But Fey… I don’t know. What can I do? Oh there I go, it’s really his choice isn’t it? But if he stays here, promise me you’ll watch out for him. Please.”

A sudden wave of emotion crashed over her and she shuddered and sank down slowly to her knees. She would have to leave him eventually. Too soon. After all, her life didn’t really belong to her anymore, the world was counting on their Herald.

“Shit, Just… the thought of leaving him… I don’t want to. I don’t want to lose him again, Julien.”

He got up quickly and knelt down beside her, pulling her into a warm hug. 

“You have my word, Aphel. I'll do everything I can to ensure both him and your clan are protected. Maybe... have you thought about possibly taking him with you? Assuming he agrees to it, of course. I've seen the way he looks at you, Aph. He's missed you just as much as you've missed him. Just... talk to him about it.”

She nodded slowly and took a breath to calm herself.

“I have thought about it, and if it were even possible we would need to use something completely different as an anchor point and far more magic to stabilize that sort of pull. More than a one or two mages, even with Dorian’s help. Solas couldn’t do it since he’d need to come through. It’s a big ask Julien. But if you are okay with that, I accept the help.”

“Of course I'll help. You're helping me through all of this family shit even though you don't need to and I appreciate it, truly. When the time comes, I’ll do what I can,” he said, glancing at Gwyn across the way in the courtyard, “I'm sure Gwyn would be glad to help the both of you too. She appears to have taken a liking to Feit. Right now, however, you should focus on just being here with him. The journey ahead is a long one so you don't have to worry about it just yet. We'll come up with something.”

“Thanks Red. I hope I could help a little.”

Aphel tilted her head and smiled at him. A coldness had her clutching her jacket tighter but she stood and began heading back to the group, pausing and turning as she went.

“Maybe later you’ll tell me what you’re really thinking.”

He flashed her a smirk. Of _course_ she'd picked up on his misdirection, she was a perceptive one after all.

"What I'm really thinking? Haven't the foggiest idea of what you could possibly mean, oh Lady Herald," he said cheekily.

Upon leaving the room, he noted the courtyard was full of people now and not just soldiers. The volunteer Templars and Mages both gathered in small groups around the carts and small children were skipping about selling little flower crowns to anyone who had a coin to spare. There were also quite a few dignitaries that appeared to be looking for him. He winced a little. Perhaps they had taken a little too long getting ready.

A courier spotted him and began making a bee line over. In his panic, he whistled loudly to Cupcake and leapt off the stairs onto her back before they reached him.

"Inquisitor! I've got a message for you fro-"

"No time, sorry! Just about to go! Pass it over to Josephine!" He called out to them as he trotted away in the direction of the Chargers.

"Well, it appears the Inquisitor is ready to leave. I suppose it's time for you all to go then..." Cullen said to the Trevelyan sisters a little sadly.

Gwyn nodded to both him and Celeste, waved and walked away to give them a little privacy. Celeste turned to him sadly and reached into her pocket to fetch his handkerchief.

"I had this cleaned, I should probably give it back to you..." She said as she folded it neatly in her hands and held it out.

He shook his head.

"It's ok you can keep it,"

Biting her lip, she lowered her hand. While her time here had been brief, she'd found she' grown quite fond of this place. Quite fond of... Certain people. Cole had implied that Cullen liked her too... maybe she could...

"Before, you asked if I was going to visit Skyhold again after all this, I never gave you a reply."

Glancing up, she saw he was waiting on bated breath for her to continue. Instead, she leant up and planted a small, soft kiss on his lips.

"I'll have to return now, so I can give this back" she said, waving the handkerchief about playfully. His flushed face was absolutely adorable.

"I-I... I look forward to it, my lady."

"Glad to see you in good spirits Cullen." Chimed Cassandra as she strode through the group with confidence. "I wouldn't become too comfortable though, we've arranged for you to travel alongside the Inquisitor this time."

Cullen looked peaked at her sudden statement.

"Wh-what about my troops? Who's going to take command? I can't leave, there's too much to do here, things will collapse without me! Really it's ridiculous to even consider such an arrangement." he spluttered.

Cassandra rolled her eyes while Celeste glanced hopefully between them.

"Commander" Cassandra punctuated. "The preparations are made. I'll be taking on your duties while all of you are away. You're going and that is that. Honestly one would think you're their mother, not their commander. The Templars need an experienced leader and the Inquisitor needs all the strong sword arms available."

Cullen gaped and blushed before clearing his throat and wiping at his brow to cover his anxiety. "Is that so..." he sighed. 

Stifling a giggle with her hand, Celeste placed a hand gently on his bicep, glancing up at him through her lashes.

"Don't look so despondent, Commander! It'll be good to get you out of the house for a while." she said with a wink.

"It is settled then" Cassandra summarized with her accented voice, making any further objections futile.

She left both Celeste and Cullen with equal measures of excitement and fear for the path ahead.


	23. Drunkeness celebrated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pieces  
> part 1/10

The first few days of travelling held the air of the start of a journey: calm and a little restless as each of them settled into their saddles and took care to keep their balance traversing the snowy roads of the Frostbacks. On the back of Solas’ saddle, Aphel wrapped herself from head to foot in a shawl in an attempt to protect herself from the horse hair but she could already feel the discomfort creeping across her neck. The bonus though was hearing her brother laughing along with the chargers, a sound she’d sorely missed. Julien rode up beside Aphel, laughing at how she’d burrito’d herself in the fabric.

“You know, there’s plenty of room on the back of Cupcake if the horse hair ails you,” he offered, patting the space behind him.

Cupcake, as usual, had a dopey look on her face, drool dripping slightly out of the corner of her mouth. It’d been too long since he’d taken her out for a ride and the fresh air seemed to be doing her a world of good. He patted her head affectionately.

Aphel turned to him with red rimmed eyes. “Really? Dat wood be amazing. My brain is idching.” She couldn’t leap over the gap to the saddle of the overgrown reptile fast enough, leaving Solas to handle Fern by himself.

For a person so wrapped up, she was quite nimble. Cupcake made a startled cry and Julien scratched her behind the horns just how she liked. “Shhh, shh it’s ok, girl. Aphel’s just going to ride with us for a bit, it’s ok,” he soothed to her. The Dracolisk seemed to calm down at that. He looked over his shoulder at Aphel to make sure she was settled in before flashing her a smile.

She giggled at Julien’s expression. “Sorry. Wasn’t going to wait for us to stop.”

“Hunter Shades are stronger than any other breed by far, but they’re skittery,” he explained as he returned to his original position in the saddle.

He flicked the reins and made an odd clicking sound. Cupcake reacted to this by letting out her ethereal whinny and picking up speed, galloping far in front of everyone else. He had planned to do this to get Aphel away from the horse hair but Cupcake apparently just wanted to show off how fast she could go. The wind whipping at his face was refreshing. He hadn’t gone this fast in a long, long time, it felt good. Letting go of the reins and throwing his arms up in the air, he let out a loud cheer followed by a light-hearted laugh.

Aphel held tightly to the steed and enjoyed the bright white landscape streaming past.  When the dracolisk leapt smoothly over a small crevice she hollered uninhibitedly along with Julien. Gradually they slowed and Aphel had a new appreciation for the beast.

"Ahh the air is good. This is certainly an improvement, thank you. I must ask you Jules, how are you really doing? With all this family trouble. When we spoke in Skyhold I sensed you weren’t ready to talk of that, are you ready now?"

Julien sighed.

“I’m not… amazing.” he said hesitantly, “I just… I don’t believe what Andre is claiming. About my Mother, I mean.”

This was the first time he was actually admitting this out loud. He didn’t want the others to know but he had some serious doubts that their mother could have been a spy all along. And a mage at that. Aphel was trustworthy though, she’d understand or at the very least, be able to give him advice. He was sure of it.

“You have to understand, Aphel, she is the loveliest woman I’ve ever known. Think the exact opposite of my Father – she’s just so loving and caring and… supportive.”

She’d been there for him when Marlow had done what he’d done. A shoulder to cry on, a hand to rub his back, a mug of hot chocolate to calm him. His mother was his pillar of strength. To think she’d be murdering and carrying on was sickening to him.

“I don’t belive- no. It’s impossible that she’s the crazed blood-mage Andre claims her to be. I-It must be a demon or some spell or something,” he said, desperately grasping for some kind of explanation.

Aphel considered his dilemma; denial wouldn’t help anyone, but pushing him too hard would only upset him further, to look at things from an objective view would be impossible for him at this time. She silently weighed her words for a moment longer until something made her speak.

"Whether she is a mage or not I couldn’t say, but it does appear that she has ties to Tevinter. It is important to face the facts here. Those ties may not be voluntary as it may be, but I won’t pretend the moment your father left his position wasn’t an opportune time for a Tevinter spy to call in reinforcements."

Julien bit the inside of his cheek. He knew she was trying to be rational about this, to look at things from a neutral view point, but her words stirred up a fury in him. Cupcake apparently could sense his ire as she began whining with concern and attempting to turn her head to look at him but to no avail. He let out a hiss and tried to pat her but it ended up being more akin to smacking her repeatedly. This was ridiculous, getting so worked up over a very valid point? This kind of behaviour was expected of Andre, not him! With a few deep breaths he managed to calm himself a little. Best to behave like civilized adults now, yes? Best course of action: a counter point.

“It… it could be coincidence? The spy doesn’t necessarily have to be her…”

He knew he was grasping at straws right now but he needed to hold onto his faith in her for as long as he could, she’d do no less for him.

Julien was becoming upset, Aphel knew this, but for some reason at that moment it only made her want to push him further, make him hurt.

"She was probably waiting for years for her chance. Deceiving every one of you." She spoke in a barely biting tone.

“Shut up.” Julien snapped coldly.

He didn’t know why Aphel was doing this, so obviously stirring him up. Maybe he should have just kept his mouth closed not have said a thing, just smile and told her he was alright like he’d done with everyone else. What if she was right though? What if for his entire life his mother had been deceiving him? Did that mean he wasn’t wanted? That he wasn’t loved? No. He refused to believe it. Even if she was a spy, all that kindness and support had to have been real!

Aphel reddened, how could she say that? "I’m sorry, that was… that was an awful thing to say. I don’t know why I thought that. I’ll go back. You probably don’t want to be around me right now.” Stumbling over her apology she jumped down from Cupcake and for a moment enjoyed the feel of the frost on her feet. “You were right though. Your Trevelyan name is important to humans, the Venatori may have targeted her purposely to get to you.”

“Wait. C-come back,” Julien spluttered.

She’d catch a cold or pneumonia if she walked all the way back in the snow! He was still a little irked but he didn’t want her to get ill. Besides, they were so ahead of the group now it’d take her ages to even see anyone and that was if she didn’t lose her way. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to her.

“Look I… I’m sorry I snapped, just please at least let me give you a ride back to the others. I don’t want you to get lost or sick...” he said, offering her a hand to get back up.

Aphel looked up at Julien “you’re too nice for your own good.” She told him, but took his hand anyway. “Have you had a chance to speak to Gwyn? I’ve seen you giving each other looks. You’ve been separated for almost your entire lives. I still can’t understand how that could happen.”

Julien bit his lip as he steered Cupcake around to get back to the others. This was an awkward topic.

“I… I haven’t. To be honest, this is going to make me sound like a terrible person, I’ve been avoiding her. I just… I thought if I got her back we’d spend all this time together and it’d be just like before but she’s changed. She’s a completely different person and we’ve grown apart and,” he paused for a moment to sigh, “I don’t know how to talk to her any more. She seemed to be more interested in talking to Andre anyway, she always did idolize him…”

He knew it was childish but he felt awkward around her, like she was a stranger. She was so calm and cool and just… well bookish. She was never one for study when they were children. Hell, she was the one that started most of their pranks! There was this gap between them that he just simply didn’t know how to bridge.

"I bet she hasn’t changed all that much, if you just give it a go, you’ll see that. She may be thinking the same thing as you. You’re not alone." Aphel smiled.

* * *

Aphel was right, he should go talk to Gwyn but she seemed to be busy socializing with the Chargers and he didn’t want to intrude. He would go speak to her in his own time, perhaps later on tonight when they made camp.

Feit had been moving back and forth, chatting to everyone possibly to the brink of their patience. His current victim being Dorian and Solas.

"Okay, no this is hilarious okay? Honestly. So I was trying to hunt a squirrel so I climbed a tree and started waving my arms around, then suddenly fifty of them jumped on me. Guess they thought I was acting nutty!"

Solas snorted but Dorian gave him a strange grimace.

“What was that about nuts?” Julien called out, trotting Cupcake up next to the trio.

Andre, who was riding near enough to hear Julien’s raised voice coughed and spluttered.

“What?” Julien yelled out to him, quirking a brow.

Andre gave him an awkward look, eyes darting to Dorian for a moment before he mumbled out something about taking point and galloping off. Julien had to laugh. The man hadn’t said a full, proper sentence to him since the incident back at Skyhold. He was acting quite childish! Still, he was glad he apparently hadn’t told Celeste about it. She would have teased him till he cried. He looked back to the others.

“Seriously though, what was that about nuts? I only heard the last part…”

"Our… friend here is apparently quite the sesquipedalian." Dorian snarled.

"Sesquach?" Feit queried.

"Dorian doesn’t seem to appreciate your fine word-play Feit." Solas added.

"Do you know how many dwarven bars I have been kicked out of to get all of these jokes?" Feit shouted dramatically.

Julien laughed heartily and leaned over to give Dorian a one arm hug.

“Lighten up, Dor, he’s only trying to make conversation,” Julien said cheerily.

This grudge his boyfriend seem to have with Feit needed to stop. They’d discussed this several times, but the mage was just not letting it go. It was frustrating! He gave Dorian’s hand a quick squeeze and gave him a look that said try-to-get-along-please? He looked over to Feit.

“I’m curious about all these dwarven bars! Does this mean you’ve been to Orzammar? I’ll admit, I’ve never had the opportunity to go into one… there aren’t many Dwarves that live in Ostwick.”

Feit brightened up at the question. “Oh they’re there alright! They’re everywhere! I used to sneak away from the clan all the time to visit the towns and, well apparently Hahren knew all along and dildn’t tell the keeper- oh right- I would go there at night, during the day, anytime at all, so one night I see these dwarves laughing after I get beat up outside a human tavern and so I go up to them, they said they’ll buy me a drink, I said what kind, they said dwarven kind, I say that stuff tastes like dirt, they laugh even harder and shove me down a hole. IT WAS A TINY TAVERN! Big, but also small at the same time. Turns out they build these places all over the free-marches to give the merchants a “taste of home”. I wasn’t wrong about the ale though.”

Julien smiled. He loved Feit’s enthusiasm, it was quite contagious.

“Really? Even in Ostwick? I must have been hanging around the wrong places then. You’ll have to show me once we get there. Although, I am certainly not having any of the Dwarven Ale… remember what happened last time I had some, Dor?” he said, broad smile on his face.

Dorian rolled his eyes and groaned.

“Yes. Vividly.”

Julien gave him an expectant look, waving his hand in a circle to indicate he should continue. Another groan escaped the mage.

“You threw up on the barkeep, ate all the pickled eggs out of the jar and then kicked the lute out of the Bard’s hands, took it up on top of one of the tables and began singing this really annoying, catchy song that was stuck in my head for days!” he grumbled, “not to mention that picked egg taste did not leave your mouth for far too long! And it was not an attractive smell either…”

"Aww and you still decided to keep me? I am truly blessed" Julien jested.

"Pickled eggs? Is that what you call Solas when he gets drunk? I didn’t know the lord Inquisitor could play the lute, what else can you do? Ever tried the Kalimba? Or a flute? I snuck into an Orlesian party once and they had the most amazing instrument I’ve ever seen, It looked like they’d stuck a bunch of glasses on a spinny thing and when the Lady touched the rims they would sing. Never heard anything like it in my life. Funny those Orlesians. They’re all a bit… you know,” he waved his hand in an ambiguous gesture “but because they have all this free time, they get bored easy, so they come up with the most amazing things to have fun with!"

“Pickled egg! I am soooooo calling you that now, Solas.” Julien laughed.

Solas groaned and rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

“I mostly just play stringed instruments. Violin for the most part but I do know a little harp as well. Oh! And xylophone! I’d like to hear this glass instrument you spoke of though, it sounds like it’d be amazing! Oooh and speaking of bored Orlesians! Varric once told me this story of how he and Hawke went to this Orlesian noble’s chateau for a party and the Duke there had a Wyvern as a pet! A Wyvern! I’d love to have one myself but Dorian won’t let me,” he pouted a little at the end.

“I don’t want to have to deal with the venom that would undoubtedly be spat at you!”

"Sounds exciting either way. Though with my luck it would probably eat me." Feit chuckled. "What happened to Apple anyway? I thought she’d come back here with us. Bull said we’ll be reaching an inquisition scouting point soon." He wondered if by scouting point he meant a few wooden planks marked by a petrified wheel of cheese.

Julien looked down for a moment. What Aphel had said was still fresh in his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about his mother and her intention. Sifting through his memories of her, he tried to see if there was any point where she might have slipped, where maybe her ‘true nature’ had shown through but he couldn’t remember anything specific. He shook his head slightly to shoo the negative thoughts away, they were an issue for a later time.

“She said she was tired so I dropped her off on one of the carts. Horse hair allergies playing up, y’know?” he said, forcing a smile.

Feit raised an eyebrow “You sound like crap, are you sick or something? Did something upset you?” He looked around at each of their faces as Julien blanched. “What? He does look like crap. Oh shit I swore at the Inquisitor. Sorry your thingyness… Maker bless you or… the divine? Praise Andersty and all her little babies… I’m going to get hit by lightning soon aren’t I?” Feit looked up at the sky and swore those crows looked suspicious.

“I-It’s nothing. Just thinking about … important Inquisitor business, nothing for you to worry about.” Julien stammered out quickly.

A quick glance at Dorian confirmed Julien’s fear. He wasn’t buying what he was selling. Dorian opened his mouth to say something, probably to press the issue further, but Julien spoke over him.

“And don’t worry about swearing at me or doing all that chantry crap. I’d appreciate it if you just treated me how you’d treat anybody else, ok?”

Feit felt relieved and a little surprised to hear it, but kept his eye on the sky nonetheless. Forgetting to say goodbye he pulled up the reigns of his horse and turned to head to the carts in search of his elder sister. A bad feeling tugged at him that wouldn’t let him relax.

Passing Gwyn on the way he waved to her and gave a go at showing off by standing up on the horse-back. The horse gave a strange whinny as a few of the chargers cheered and whooped.

Gwyn laughed and clapped her hands. Amazing! How did he even keep his balance doing that? Was there some kind of secret to it? She barely had a grasp on just riding a horse, let alone doing any fancy tricks. Her nervousness around the beasts did her no favours. She’d almost been thrown from so many of the horses at this point they had to give her the slow, old and partially deaf Amaranthine Charger that was barely aware of its own surroundings let alone the rider.

“You’re amazing, Feit!” she called out enthusiastically.

"I’ve fallen enough times to know how not to" he laughed in reply and returned to the saddle, drawing himself side on to her. "The mountains are beautiful aren’t they? They look like blankets thrown over sleeping giants. I hope they don’t wake up."

“They’re quite breath-taking I agree! It’s nice to actually have the time to stop at look at them…” she drifted off.

Last time she was near this part of the country, that spirit was possessing her. It’d hadn’t bothered to stop and smell the roses, it looked only straight ahead of itself. This time around, it was much nicer. Crisp, fresh air and pleasant company did her wonders. She hadn’t felt this… well _free_ in a long while. She snapped back to reality and realized she’d been gawking at the view instead of continuing the conversation.

“You have quite the imagination though, Feit. Sleeping giants? I’d never have thought of that,” she said, flashing him a smile.

Feit played with his hair, a little embarrassed. “Well…I’ve met a lot of people who have a lot of different ideas. What kinds of things do you believe in?”

Gwyn was taken aback by the question.

“What do I believe in? I… I’m not sure. Most of the experiences I’ve had with this sort of thing have been purely factual. If you asked somebody in the Circle what a mountain is they’d say: the result of tectonic plates smashing together. I guess it’s just a matter of different exposure. Most folks in my Circle had only read about mountains, never seen them.” she said thoughtfully.

"I guess I can understand that,” he said wondering what a technotic plate was “but there must be some things beyond just what you can see. That giant hole up there is something, my sister being here, even your magic shows that, don’t you think so?”

“You are right. There are plenty of things I know are there but have never seen. My… friend for example. I’ve never actually met them in person or talked to them but I know they’re looking out for me.” she replied.

She was speaking of the Spirit of Fortitude that had come to her shortly after she’d been taken to the Circle. The memories of being afraid of them at first, worried it was a demon sprang into her mind. She’d been so young she hadn’t understood. After while though, she knew it wasn’t malevolent. Not through books or study at first, but through listening to her instincts.

Feit nodded but wasn’t too sure what she meant, did she really make friends with spirits? What would that even feel like? “Can I ask, what is it like, talking to a spirit? Do they know a lot of things? What language do they speak? How do you even contact them? How are spirits born or are they like ghosts? Can spirits use magic? Why do they possess people?” His mind continued to ramble even after he closed his mouth and an inch of fear caressed him and had his hands trembling on the reigns. Perhaps he didn’t want to know these things… What if the answers weren’t good ones?

Gwyn paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. She could talk about spirits all day and still have more to discuss but she needed to be concise.

“Well, I can’t say for others but in my experience, the best way to ‘talk’ to a spirit is by entering the fade. Through dreams I mean, not the way Julien did. Talking to a spirit is… unusual. Not all of them speak physically, some of them speak to you through your mind, and it varies from Spirit to Spirit.” She stopped for a moment to remember what else he had asked.

“My friend for example? I’ve never actually spoken directly to them. Our interactions have just been expressions of feelings. Like, when I was fresh in the circle, I would get really scared at night. Then, it was always when I was on the verge of tears, I’d feel a warm presence by my side that would comfort me and fill me with courage, like I needn’t be afraid of anything,” she smiled to herself at the thought before continuing. "That spirit came to me at a time when I felt like I was alone… Our friendship is something I treasure dearly…’ She trailed off.

"You’re starting to sound a bit like egg-head back there, Gwyn," Dalish piped up from her horse, flashing her fellow… Archer a cheeky grin.

Feit laughed and once again moved on. At the carts he saw Cole lying on his back pointing at the white washed sky as Andre mumbled beneath his breath from his horse.

"Hello there Cole," he called out "what do you see?"

"Each step away is another step towards. Heart aching both ways. Want to go back to tell her more but can’t find the words." Cole said in his usual broken sentences.

Andre visibly stiffened but don’t comment. Glancing over his shoulder he nodded to Feit, hoping the pink on his cheeks would fade before the elf noticed.

"He’s been babbling that strange nonsense all day. Tell me, Feit was it? Do you believe in the things he says?" Andre asked, trying to make conversation.

"Cole feels special somehow… I think it’s like he is reading something out loud, is that right Cole? I don’t really know if they are true, but they must be important."

Cole looked up and with a smile, threw Feit an apple and the elf began munching at it hungrily. “I feel the hurt and I try to make it better. With Andre I seem to be making it hurt more though. Especially the parts with Gwyne-“ Cole began.

Andre let out a growl and glared at the boy angrily. “Not the right time or place for that, Cole.” he said through gritted teeth. Josephine had given him quite the lecture on being nice or at the very least civil before he had left. He really did need to learn how to manage his anger levels

"What’s wrong with Gwyn? Is it because she is learning to fight?" Feit asked confusedly between bites. "Can you feel my bruised rib? She got me good."

Cole concentrated for a minute.

"Yes. Pride is hurt but happiness for her outshines it. Glad she can defend better than she can hit. His pain doesn’t come from that, it comes from before. Not from her but from himself. Guilt is eating his insi-"

"Enough!" Andre snapped, "I thought I said I didn’t want you talking about it!"

Cole shrunk back a little.

"I made the hurt worse…"

Feit sighed. “Maybe it’s only something he can fix himself Cole. I’m sure he will ask you for help when he’s ready, right Messere? Try making him think of good things. Like that shield- oh… did she… um… you got any more of those apples Cole?”

Like hell Andre was going to ask him for help! He wasn’t even sure he was going to tell her. He knew wounds left unattended fester but he… He couldn’t. Wait. What was that about a shield?

"Shield? What are you talking about? Oh never mind" he sulked.

"Birthday cake, annual visit, worry he’ll be caught followed by exploding happiness. He’s here! She’ll always treasure those moments with you…" Cole said, trying Feit’s advice as he threw him a second apple.

Andre was stunned for a moment before he let a rare smile grace his face. Surely all those times he snuck into the circle for her would lessen the blow? Or perhaps it would make the betrayal worse? Cole had said before she would understand… maybe he should go talk to her. Later. When they’ve set up camp.

A shout from the front had the line of riders pulling their reigns and swapping looks.

"The check point is up ahead!" Called a dwarf.

"Yes, I need to piss desperately. Riding, bouncing up and down for hours does NOT help that fact." Feit groaned and stretched his arms over his head with his back flat against the horse’s. "One more night in the snow I’d say? With so many people we’ve travelled so slowly…"

"Charming." Andre drawled sarcastically. Were all elves so crass? “I agree with you, we brought along too many. And a select few will serve no other purpose than to… distract." he said, shooting a glance over Dorian’s way.

He didn’t dislike the Mage per se he just thought that maybe Julien should have left him behind. That man seemed to have held his brother’s attention more than anything else and there were way more pressing things to think about right now than- Andre flushed at the memory that shot back into his mind.

"One more night in the snow then we have the Waking Sea to cross." He shuddered at the thought. He really didn’t like water.

Feit smirked at the rugged warrior, far too tempted, not to mention bored, to not tangle with Andre. “Make a lot friends with that attitude, do we? Surely you’re tired of being so proper? Don’t ever want to let loose mister lord? Or can’t you wait to marry the next baroness shoved in your bed? You don’t seem like the type to enjoy that game. From what Celeste told me, you ended up in a fight at near every matchmaking dinner you were made to attend.” he un-stirruped and manoeuvred to recline side on in his saddle facing Andre, hand on hip almost seductively, showing off his balance and attempting to show how relaxed he could be. “Enjoy the ride before you get chained to your lordy-lord name.”

Andre’s jaw clenched. This elf was baiting him - trying to get him to snap. Trying to get under his skin. Josephine had asked him to be nice. She made him promise! But this Feit was really testing his patience.

"What are you trying to imply exactly? I know what is expected of me and I do my best to fulfil that role. None of those matches suited me, that’s all. No non-committal undertones I assure you," he said calmly for once.

What was he trying to _imply_? What was that again? “I am implying that you got your head stuck so far into your family’s business that you can’t even let yourself be happy and be honest about what you really want. Or can you honestly tell me you’re happy as Larry being tied to a role for the rest of your life? Because you would have fooled me. This-” Feit waved his hand to gesture over Andre’s stiff posture and grim profile “is not the look of a happy man.”

Feit wondered if being so honest was a good idea, but as much as he would have liked to just become the man’s friend, there would be time for that later.

Andre sighed. Feit was right, he wasn’t a happy man. Not even in the slightest.

"I’ve never claimed to be happy… I have to be the responsible one. I have to be the one that protects the others and makes the hard decisions - makes the sacrifices so they don’t have to…"

Celeste, as much as he loved her, just was not cut out for the stress of leading. So he took on her clerical duties. Gwyneth had shown her magical talent and was susceptible to demon possession. So he had told on her to get her to a place where she would be safe and amongst her peers. Julien was supposed to be given to the chantry as a sign of the Trevelyan’s faith but Andre knew he would wilt under the restrictions. So he had taken the invite to the conclave instead, although that effort had been in vain. He wasn’t a happy man, but At least his siblings were looked after.

Sitting up once again, Feit watched the carts pull aside as the chargers began to dismount and set up camp. In a sudden change of tone, Feit spoke almost tenderly.

"I’m sorry. It must be very hard for you." He turned back to Andre, feeling determined to make his point "but you’re not alone. You’re their brother too, they want to protect you as much as you want to protect them. You don’t have to do everything yourself." He shrugged and reached over to pat the man on the shoulder. Feit wasn’t certain Andre gave even two shits about what he’d said, but at least that little fluttering in his chest had calmed down and Cole appeared to be much happier for it at least.

Them? Protect him? He wasn’t sure how they could. His entire life revolved around his duty to his family. Outside of that he didn’t even know what he wanted. It was defiantly something to ponder on. He grunted in Feit’s direction.

"I should go talk to Gwyn now. Make sure you rest up, the journey over the sea is a tiring one." he said as he dismounted and walked over to the chargers.

Cole stood and turned to Feit.

"He didn’t say it but he’s grateful. You helped with some of the hurt,"

"Thanks Cole. You seem better as well. I’m not sure why but whenever I’m around you I get this strange feeling… like I have to… Or I want to… Ah I can’t explain it."

Feit had felt drawn to Cole when they’d met in skyhold, and since then he had certainly been fascinated by his ability to read people. He even swore he could sometimes feel exactly what Cole was saying as though he were listening with his heart rather than his ears.


	24. Little lies burning bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pieces 2/10

The beating of his heart hammered in his chest as Andre crossed the beginnings of the camp to where Gwyneth was helping set up tents. This was a long time coming, she had the right to know. That thought did not calm his shaking, clammy hands however. When he reached her she was standing there chatting to Celeste and Aphel. Perhaps now was a bad time? He could come back-

“‘Dre! There you are! I’ve been wondering where you’d gone! I have something for you, I know you’ll just love it! Wait right there, I’ll go get it!” Gwyn chimed as she ran off to one of the carts.

Andre swallowed hard. She had something for him? This was going to be harder than he thought. He nodded towards Aphel;

“Did you… Er… Have a pleasant trip?” He asked awkwardly; this whole be-nice business was exhausting.

Aphel shuffled in her seat and rubbed at her itching nose.

"Could have been worse.  If it helps you'll know I’m terribly allergic to horses." She shrugged. "You look troubled though." She questioned with a pathetic smile, still feeling in complete despair about the way she’d spoken to Julien earlier and in no mood for a rivalry with his elder brother to make tensions even worse. If that were even possible.

"Oh. That is unfortunate. You should talk to Gwyn. She does… Healing doesn’t she?" His words came out forced and he felt no measure of comfort for her concern. A sigh was released as he glanced up to look Aphel in the eye. "I’m… I’m going to tell her." He was a little apprehensive about this whole ordeal. He didn’t know why he told them, perhaps he was hoping for some sort of reassurance that he was doing the right thing.

Aphel’s eyes opened wide in surprise and Celeste gave him a concerned look.

“‘Dre, are you sure about this?” she asked him in a serious tone.

"You’re going to… explain to Gwyneth? You know, back in Skyhold, I was angry, It wasn’t you at all. I hope that hasn’t affected your decision-making here. Though I do think it is a good idea, just don’t rush things." Aphel grimaced at her lack of tact while she suppressed a sneeze.

"It- It wasn’t that. I- I guess I feel like now is the right time. I keep fretting about how she’ll think of me when I tell her but she has the right to know… Better she hears it from me anyway…" Andre trailed off while his hands stroked though his trimmed beard. As Gwyn approached them with The Iron Bull in tow, Andre's blood ran cold. The Qunari had a blanket draped over his arm that clearly had something beneath it. 

"I noticed you’ve been pretty stressed and upset lately…" Gwyn said sweetly "So I had this made for you! I hope you like it," she grinned giddily and ripped the fabric off Bull’s arm.

Andre’s eyes widened. This shield… It was beautiful! He reached out and fingered the engagement with a feather light touch, tracing the lines with his rough hand.

"A Varghest?" He said quietly, "you remember that?"

Gwyn smiled gently. "Of course! You protected me that day and now I can protect you… Go on. Give it a go!"

He took the shield gingerly, testing it on his shield arm and feeling the grip tight and snug on his forearm. It was perfect. No one ever did anything like this for him… ever. He suddenly felt like crying. Looking at her, he smiled and pulled her into a big, rib crushing hug.

"Thank you. Thank you so much! I-it’s perfect."

He didn’t want to ruin this moment with his confession. How could he? She seemed so happy and hugging her like this again felt like a ray of sunlight in the middle of winter. 

"Gwyn that is stunning!" Aphel exclaimed as she marveled at the design, one of Harritt’s surely. Within herself she felt a wave of darkness rise up which drained the joy from her veins like fire being snuffed out. "I can see how important your big brother is to you, It must mean so much to know he was always there to watch out for you those years you spent trapped in the Circle. If only the other mages could have been so lucky, maybe there wouldn’t have been a rebellion." She dropped her eyes and stepped back, a look of discomfort washed over her features.

Gwyn’s smile dropped a little at the thought of her fellow mages suffering so.

"Ain’t that the truth! I was so happy the first time ‘Dre came to see me… It’s too bad most of the others didn’t have that luxury… Most of them never heard from their families again," she said grimly.

Celeste felt her face twitch with anger.

"Y-you visited her?! How? Why didn’t you tell us!" She snapped.

She felt frustrated and quite frankly, hurt. If she had known she would have come too! Maker's breath, she’d tried to multiple times but he’d caught her and told her not to risk it! What a hypocrite!

"I… I pulled a few strings with the guard and I have associates who are Templars… I didn’t tell either you or Julien because I didn’t want to risk the two of you getting caught…"Andre spluttered, flinching at his elder sister’s biting tone.

As the tensions rose, Aphel felt a slow burn course through her at their anger, and a feeling she could only describe as close to ecstasy. 

"UGH! That is just so classic you! We aren’t glass ornaments that need to be handled carefully! We are people, Andre! You need to treat us as such! And also, a Varghest?" she scoffed, "How fitting! You should look up the old Ciriane legends on them, you’ll get a good laugh out of the irony!" Celeste spat before storming off, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration.

Andre turned to Gwyn, intending on giving her an explanation but stopped himself when he saw her distraught expression.

"Hey now, don’t cry Gwyn… She’s angry at me not you," Andre said, pulling her in for another hug.

Cullen approached them after hearing the kerfuffle and looked between the faces of those who remained, searching for answers.

"What's going on here? Is she alright?" he demanded.

Cullen's confusion had Aphel jolting back to her senses. Why did she say that? “I’m- I have to- sorry. I’ll go talk to her.” she said, trembling from the cold.

"You go do that. We’ll look after Gwyn," Bull said, motioning towards the mage who was now sobbing heavily into Andre’s shoulder.

The Commander made to follow after Aphel but was waved away as the elf darted out into the forest at a sprint.

* * *

Celeste didn’t stop marching until she reached a drop-off, overlooking the valley. How could he do that? Gwyn was her sibling too, damn it! All those years and he didn’t once say anything! Not even dropped hints as to how she was doing! She felt herself crumple to the ground as she sobbed grossly. It wasn’t fair!

She dug her hand into her coat pocket and pulled out the handkerchief Cullen had given her the first time they’d spoken properly to one another; she’d been crying then too, although for entirely different reasons. Aphel-related reasons. He'd been a great comfort to her back then. Maker, he'd probably think her a total crybaby, carrying on like this. She knew she was crying in vain; that it would accomplish nothing. The damage had already been done and there was nothing she could do about it now. Still, the feeling of betrayal was raw in her chest and it was unlikely to cease hurting any time soon.

She felt terrible. It had just dawned on her how unintentionally horrible she’d been to Gwyn! Not only had she made fun of the gift she’d obviously put a lot of effort into, she'd caused such a row in front of Gwyn and then left without saying anything… Stupid! She was absolutely, one hundred percent stupid! She should have waited until Andre was alone before tearing into him! 

"Cel, Cel are you…? Oh Mythal I’m so sorry." Celeste could hear Aphel's distant voice.

Her guilt made her cry harder until her throat was raw and the only sound that escaped her was strangled, rough cries that were so quiet even she struggled to hear them. She didn’t even care enough to try to stop her sobbing when she heard Aphel's footsteps approaching.

"Cel, I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know what to say." Aphel looked down and saw her clutching herself and trembling against the snow. "It’s alright, you’ll be alright. I’m here." She knelt beside Celeste and wrapped her arms around her tightly while stroking her red hair. Closing her eyes tightly and biting her own lip, completely furious with her stupidity. How could she do something so cruel to make Celeste cry like this?

The warmth from Aphel made Celeste feel a little better.

"Why does nothing good ever happen? Or when it does it’s only short-lived?" She murmured more to herself than Aphel.

"That isn’t true, you’ve just had some terrible circumstances. All of you have. I know it’s hard right now but you’re still family and you’re still together, you’re not alone. I shouldn’t have said what I said back there. It’s my fault."

"You have nothing to apologise for. You were being polite… I mean it’s not like you knew what he’d done, right?" She said, trying her best to smile through her tears.

Of course she didn’t. She would have told her otherwise. When she’d said “big brother looking out for her” she was just being vague… Right?

"I…" Aphel’s words were failing her, there was no longer any doubt in her mind that something was affecting her mind, "I need to go. You should go back to Gwyn and Andre, Julien too. they need their big sister right now Cel."

The elven woman reluctantly drew back from Celeste's warmth and felt the ice-cold air rush painfully to meet her now exposed skin. She stepped away, reaching the point where she no longer had to stop herself from running back into the woman's arms to cling to her like a desperate child. It was almost a comfort to have the biting wind keeping her grounded. It felt as though since arriving here she had begun to feel less and less herself; something was pulling her away from her awareness in such minuscule amounts that she'd barely known until she'd done or said something terrible. She trudged away in the dark, chewing on her trembling lips, leaving Celeste to her stunned confusion, sitting in the cold snow.

"I knew, I knew and yet I said those things, I wanted to-" Aphel couldn't bare to finish the sentence, not even to herself. So she rubbed at her eyes and followed the flickering lights back to camp until she found Solas sitting lazily with his hands clasped in his lap. "Vhenan." She approached and tumbled down beside him.

He looked up to her and immediately noticed something off. “Aphel, what’s wrong? Tell me now.”

She wondered if it made sense, was she being tainted by the anchor? Did it somehow have a connection to the red lyrium? The thought made her feel sick while the image of Lord Trevelyan’s face flashed into her mind and she lowered her head into Solas’ lap. 

"All these horses. I can’t bear it. Never ever ask me to get on a horse again."

Solas twitched at the pain in her voice but chose to go along with her story, stroking her hair rather than launching into an interrogation. “I am certain you’ll brighten up when we reach the ocean.”

Aphel breathed a sigh and closed her eyes. “I believe you.”

* * *

Gwyneth was worried about Celeste. She’d seen Aphel return without her sister a while ago but Celeste still hadn’t returned. As upset as she was by the argument she'd witnessed, she didn't want her being alone out there. She put down the book Lady Vivienne had lent her and lifted herself off the ground, turning to Bull and Feit.

"I am going to go look for Celeste. She hasn’t returned and I fear for her well being. If I don’t come back in half an hour send out a search party…" She said, looking around for a spare coat for her sister.

"Sure thing." Bull shrugged and the two men stood to follow her.

"If we don’t come back in half an hour, we’ll get a search party." Feit shrugged simply.

"You guys… you're coming with me? B-but you just cracked open a keg! I can’t ask you to leave all this behind on a whim of mine I-"

"The chief won’t listen, Gwyn. When he gets like this it’s easier to just go with it," Krem said, helping himself to aforementioned keg.

Gwyn looked to her two friends, determined looks were plastered on both their faces. She sighed in defeat and picked up the spare coat.

"Thank you guys, really," she said simply, nodding in the direction her sister had gone.

"Gwyn you look terrible, I am not letting you go out there alone." Feit told her and held his arm out for her.

"Yeah you two are the most danger prone people I’ve ever met. If I was smart I’d leave you two your own fate." The Bull picked up a blanket and wrapped it over the two of them. "Let’s go."

Gwyn smiled. These two. She honestly didn’t know how she’d lived without them before. The three of them went of into the wooded area surrounding the camp. Gwyn’s staff illuminated the path that Celeste had clearly gone through – the path of footprints leading them into the dark trees.

"Celeste! Celeste where are you?" Gwyn shouted out as they went, looking about as she did so.

Muffled words could be hard ahead of them and Gwyn brought a finger to her lips, indicating to be quiet as she dimmed the light of her staff. They followed the sounds until a shiny metal object caught Gwyn’s eye and she stepped towards it. It was a single silverite dagger, sharpened to perfection with a lone sapphire embedded in the hilt.

"This… This is Celeste’s. So she must have been here but…”

Bull shushed her and indicated ahead. Glancing up, they spied Commander Cullen sitting beside Celeste, arm around her shoulders with her nuzzled against the fur of his coat. With a small smile, Gwyn grabbed the dagger and pocketed it – intending to give it back to her sister the next day.

“C'mon. We should head back to camp,” she said, turning to leave.

* * *

"Explain to me what’s gone wrong? I won’t take no for an answer... If it pleases you." Cullen habitually added the manners any common born would to someone of noble birth.

“If it pleases?- you don't have to do that with me, Cullen. Don't think of me as just some noble, we're friends. You don't have to worry about offending me.” Celeste sniffled as she proceeded to tell him all of what occurred, sparing him no details, no matter how seemingly insignificant.

“And then Aphel... she... I thought she cared but she just... left me out here.”

"It seems something’s disturbed her. I can't see why else she would do such a thing..." Cullen folded over her words in his mind carefully before continuing. "I- you and she- you two were... I hope I haven't gotten the wrong impression."

Cullen pulled back slightly at his sudden realisation but Celeste only held onto him tighter, afraid he would leave her too.

“P-please don't go! The two of us are... that is...” she stumbled over her words. Why was it so hard for her to tell him? “Aphel and I... well I thought we were- oh Maker i'm making a mess of this. I care about her. A lot.”

She felt him slump slightly and she was almost too afraid to look at him. Perhaps she should have been more upfront about the nature of their relationship to avoid such awkwardness. Shuffling herself to look at him properly, she found he was avoiding her gaze with a sad, disappointed look on his face. Hesitating slightly at first, afraid she would make him even more uncomfortable, she placed a hand on his cheek and moved his head to look at her.

“And I care about you too, Cullen.” was all she managed to squeak out before her mouth went dry. What was she trying to say here exactly? His eyes went wide in the darkness and Celeste could feel the heat from his cheek burning her icy fingers. "Aphel put it so well into words, why can't I?"

Cullen moved a warm hand on-top of hers. "It's alright, now may not be the right time, but I- I can reciprocate your- your feelings." he managed to stutter out while his eyes dipped to where her other hand clutched and his fur coat. "I'm sure if you speak with your siblings... perhaps separately, you may come to understand them more. I would like to advise you on Aphel as well but I'm afraid my understanding of both women and elves is apparently far short of where it should be." 

For a brief moment, his words didn't quite absorb as she was stunned by his confession and his acceptance of the circumstance. She'd fully expected him to shut her out completely but he hadn't. Oh Maker, her heart couldn't take much more of all these feelings it'd gone and experienced in the past couple days. She swallowed audibly and dropped her head to nuzzle the fur, hiding her blushing face from him shyly.

“Mmbe tmmrw. Dnt fll lke tlkin t thm nnw” she said, words muffled completely.

Cullen looked around them, thinking he’d heard a sound. “Of course. But now we must get back, the night will get colder yet. A warm fire will make everything a little brighter.”

She left the warmth of the fur to look up at him, pouting slightly.

“Right  _now_? I wouldn't mind staying here just a moment longer. It's nice to get away from the crowd for a bit... the quiet is relaxing.” she said, resting her chin on his shoulder lazily.

Truth was, she wasn't sure she felt up to going back just yet. She didn't really want to see Aphel. Or Andre. Or Gwyn. Maybe she should have just brought a tent with her and camped here for the night.

Cullen wanted to agree, wanted to sit at hold her until the snow melted around them. But once more a little tug of propriety niggled in the back of his mind.

“I can’t imagine you’re comfortable, why don’t we move to a fire?” he stood before his mind was allowed to change. “I’m not the only one with a frozen… behind, am I?”

She giggled a little at his demeanour. __Behind_ _. He must have a really hard time with all the nobles back at Skyhold. She really didn't want him holding back because of her background, it happened far too often with her and it was one of her pet peeves. Perhaps a little teasing would get him to lighten up? She grinned wickedly.

“Oh? Is that why it looks so firm?” she said, letting her eyes drop for a few moments before looking back up at his flushed face. She chuckled again.  _Too easy._ She watched his mouth open and close a few times before finally he managed to snort out a giggle hidden behind a cough and a closed hand.

“I see that smile.” she teased.

“You have a way with words, my Lady.” he smirked a little in the starlight as they made their steps, clinging to each other a little through the deeper parts of the snow most recently fallen; soft and airy.

Once they reached the outskirts of the camp, Celeste guided him to a seemingly abandoned fire away from most of the other groups. Perhaps she was being childish, avoiding contact with everyone but right now she didn't care. She plopped down on a log and patted the space next to her.

“A shame was don't have any marshmallows to toast,” she commented absent-mindedly. 

“Marshmallows? I can’t say I’ve ever had one. Though Templar food isn’t exactly the most varied.”

She gasped in mock-shock.

"You've never had marshmallows? Oh we'll have to remedy that, Commander! You don't know what you're missing out on!" she said excitedly, patting his arm gently, "We'll have to pick some up in the next town... Jader, was it? I'm not too good with the names of non-Marcher places, I'm afraid."

The warmth crackling from the fire pricked at the chill on their skin and had their blood coursing again. They heard the sound of scratching pen to parchment, finally noticing Varric sitting opposite them in the firelight, only occasionally glancing upwards without so much as a remark, to Cullen’s relief. The dwarf could be awfully tactful when he chose to be. So Cullen removed his gloves and reached his palms out, the aching of his almost blue fingers against the warm air a welcome feeling. The slight tremor they held however was not and he quickly tucked them away again.

“You're shaking,” Celeste noted with a slight frown, “I shouldn't have kept you out in the snow for so long, I'm sorry.”

Without thinking she reached over to him, grasped one of his hands and began rubbing it slowly between her own in an attempt to warm it. No matter how hard she tried, however, she just couldn't get the shiver out so she switched to the other one.

“I thought Fereldans were resistant to the cold,” she japed lightly.

Almost pulling away from her touch, Cullen held himself still, holding his breath with the tension. Her hands practically burned against his roughened knuckles. “Colder nights than these, certainly. I must be getting old.”

She laughed. Him? Old? Please, he looked no older than mid-thirties and even that was a stretch!

“You must have gotten soft from staying up in Skyhold all this time. When was the last time my brother let you out, hmm?” she said, gently elbowing him, “How are your hands now? Surely they've warmed up at least a little?”

“I really haven’t been able to leave my post since this all began,” he gestured at the sky, “but I honestly can’t say that has softened me.” he chuckled. Far from it. “I am certain Cassandra had her intentions when she insisted I travel with you. Getting me “out of the house” might only be one part of it.” Getting him away from the lyrium would be another. Had it not been for his present company he would be trying desperately to keep his mind from wandering to such thoughts as his throat clenched dryly at the rushing thoughts.

She tilted her head a little as she pondered his meaning.

“What might the other part be, if you don't mind my asking?”

His heart thrummed for an instant at her question that he had hoped she wouldn’t ask. 

“I’ve been under a lot of stress recently. She may be under the impression that putting me back into the field will distract me enough.” He chuckled at Cassandra’s idea of stress relief. “Our Seeker is that kind of woman.” Cullen hoped Celeste wouldn’t pry too much. Not tonight at least.

“I see, sending you out to deal with the potential scandal of the Inquisitor having Venatori ties  _ _does__ sound quite relaxing,” she said with the intent of sarcastic humour but it came out more strangled than she intended. She cleared her throat and laughed awkwardly to cover herself. 

“Cassandra sounds like a real austere woman, she'd probably get along well with Andre. Can't say I had the chance to talk to her too much. I hope I get the chance to go back to Skyhold after all of this...”

“I’m certain you will, she does enjoy picking people apart.” Varric laughed from across the fire. “Sorry, someone mentions the Seeker and I can’t help but feel a shiver down my spine.” 

“A shiver? Is that what you call it Varric? Surely a writer could come up with something a little more creative?” Cullen teased, thankful for the distraction.

“Hold it right there Curly, I told you I’m taken. And I’m starting to think Seeker is too... she spends so much time with that training dummy.”

“She must be awfully fond of it. When I saw her, she was reading Swords and Shields to it. Out loud. With voices.” Celeste added, cackling at the memory.

She'd gone over there with the intent of introducing herself but came across that whole scene instead. Being one who liked her limbs attached to her body however, she'd backed away before she'd been noticed. Glancing up, she noted Cullen's raised brow.

“Oh. To clarify: I haven't read it. Well not  _ _all__ of it. It's Andre's book. No offence Varric, but it's not your  _best_  work. Too fluffy for my tastes.”

Varric gave a breathy chuckle as a gleam came to his eyes. “That’s an image I’ll store for later. One thing though,” He added, straying back to her words. “He really owns my Swords and Shields? That Beefcake sounds like a major contradiction to me. But brothers are like that aren’t they?”

Celeste cackled evily. On any other night, she would have felt bad for gossiping about him like this to people she barely knew but he  _had_  pissed her off. This was simply a petty form of revenge.

“Oh yes. That any many other trashy romance novels. He really doesn't know anything about women so I think he reads them as research? Who knows? He doesn't really talk to anyone about it... he doesn't even know that I know about his little 'stash'” she said with a grin, “but you're right. Brothers  _are_  contradictory. Julien less so, but Andre? He is quite the hypocrite...”

"Leave it to family to bring you down. I have a theory that we see the worst of them because they trust you to love them no matter what." He sat back and pulled out a small signet ring and thumbed at the bronze crest. “Or they’re just assholes. Take your pick.” 

Laughing sardonically, she reached into one of her belt pouches and retrieved a letter she'd received back at Skyhold. It was another from that certain annoyance in Ansburg and she didn't need to open it to know what it would say. With a slight scowl, she leaned forward so her arms were resting on her knees as she began tearing it up and flicking the pieces into the fire while she thought about what he had said.

“Right now, I'm thinking it's the latter. He'd only be sorry he was caught, not for his actions. That's Andre's problem – he's so sure his way is the right way he doesn't even consult anyone first... well except maybe my Father.”

"I have a friend who once helped me through some… family matters; they stood by me even after my brother left us for dead in the Deep Roads. I’d never known someone to go that far for me before. We went through a lot of shit together, and even now I’d say she is closer to me than any of my family ever were." Varric chuckled at the thought of telling Hawke these things. What a reaction she would give him.

"My point was, shit happens, and you see that the people left at the end of it are the really important ones."

She continued throwing the paper into the fire as she pondered his statement. It held some truth to it but it didn’t answer any questions she may have had about Andre... or Aphel.

Her expression dropped at the thought of her elven... lover? Friend? What were they exactly? She had come to comfort her but then… She’d left. She’d left her alone in the cold snow after evading a question that hadn’t meant anything at the time but now… had she known then? Her silence had all but confirmed it. Then why would she use that knowledge to try and hurt her if what she’d said about loving her was true? She was acting very hot and cold. It was… Strange. She didn’t know how to feel.

"How are you supposed to know if someone’s important if you’re only in the middle of the story? Both their actions tonight... they don't exactly inspire confidence." her voice dropped to a murmur.

It was Cullen who answered this time and ran his fingers through the damp ends of his hair,  attempting to dry it in the warm air. “Inaction is still an action. You may not know everything there is to know yet.”

Andre’s motivations were far from clear, while Aphel’s actions were ever the mystery. Who exactly was the elf?

“So you're saying I should just wait and see how things go?”

She threw the last bit of the letter into the fire and sat back on the log, looking over to Cullen. Smiling a little to herself, she noticed how his hair curled as it dried... how adorable! Did he style it every morning then? She wanted to know what it looked like naturally! Now was not the time to think of such things though and with a sigh she shook her head, looking back to the fire.

“Perhaps I should sleep on it and gather more information tomorrow... look at the situation with a fresh outlook?”

“Yes.” Cullen glanced sideways, wondering what she had been burning but deciding not to ask, nor give in to the urge to take her slim hands in his own. “Perhaps now would be the time for us to turn in, I’m scouting ahead tomorrow for Jader.”

“That is a good idea, I think,” she said with a sigh then turned to Varric, “Thank you, Varric, for your words of wisdom. You’re a good friend. Hawke wa-… is lucky to have you.”

As she rose from her seat, Varric nodded to her with a wistful smile and returned to his writing.

Turning to Cullen, she asked almost timidly, “Can you... walk me back to my tent?”  

“I would be pleased to.” he smiled and the two of them trundled away together.

* * *

Feit collapsed against the nearest tent and curled into a ball with his face hidden against his knees “I still don’t get it. What happened to make people so upset? It feels terrible.”

“It was the result of poor communication on Dre’s part," Gwyn said thoughtfully, “he is so focused on protecting all of us he doesn’t realise he’s suffocating everyone and himself with this need to hold all of the weight. He always suffers in silence… If he let others in he’d find himself and all of us in way less misery"

Feit looked up at her and the flickering campfire.

"It’s sad. He is sad. But I think he feels that things will be fixed when you all go home."

Going home made Feit think of the rest of his clan, the keeper and hahren and parents all the little children. And then he thought of Aphel. His Aphel, the one who died and the one who lived. Were they really the same?

Gwyn buried herself a little deeper in a blanket burrito.

"To be honest… I’m a little scared about going. To the estate, I mean. I haven’t been there since I was like 8… And my Mother… If she’s really a Mage…" She trailed off.

There were so many questions she wanted to ask her! Why? Why hadn’t she helped her control her magic? Then she wouldn’t have had to leave! It hurt too much to think about it.

"We’ll just have to wait and see what happens I suppose… The wait is killing me though." She finished.

* * *

The next morning had all of them a little deeper in the snow as though the silent landscape was reflecting their inner turmoil, dragging them and slowing their progress. It was an immense relief to come in sight of the bustling harbour town of Jader.

"Holy Halla! look at that!" Feit bounced in his saddle, itching to get in to the thick of it. "Andre! have you been here before?"

Andre groaned and rubbed his head. He still had a thumping headache from all of Julien’s complaining this morning about the lack of muffins available. Honestly. The man was extremely unpleasant and whiny if he didn’t get his full-menu breakfast. Heck, a few metres back the man could still be heard grumbling about it.

"I’ve been through here once or twice, never stayed there for an extended period so I’m always just passing through. Local delicacy is crab… It’s fairly decent."

He was downplaying it. It was amazing and as soon as they got into the town he was going make a beeline to the restaurant that made the best chilli crab salad he'd ever tasted. His mouth was practically watering already.

Feit nodded but kept his eyes trained on the view ahead. He could see blue. So much blue. that was the sea! ”It looks… so big…”

Andre raised an eyebrow. Big?

"Jader is fairly small compared to most other harbour towns…" He said awkwardly.

"He’s talking about the sea, ‘Dre," Celeste said softly riding up next to them.

She was still angry at him but she decided to just let it go for now, they had more pressing issues to tend to. Their trip would be difficult enough as it is without her causing any extra drama.

"How did it get so big?" He gaped and almost found himself speechless.

Dorian and Julien sidled up to them and Dorian snorted at the elf snidely. “Oh please, must you be such a guppy? It’s almost like you’ve never seen water before. Living in a tree I would imagine you get at least a good view.”

Feit turned to look at the moustached man and began pointing with his mouth still agape. “Oh Maker help! It’s a tawny frogmouth! I hope nobody wore plaid today, it can sense clashing patterns!”

Julien sniggered at Dorian’s slightly shocked expression. He was glad Feit was finally sassing the man back! As much as Julien loved Dorian, he had to admit that up until this point Feit had essentially been a punching bag - absorbing all of Dorian’s subtle insults without reacting overmuch. Perhaps now the man would be deterred from- Julien’s line of thought died on the challenge-accepted look on his lover’s face. He needed to divert the conversation, quick!

"So we’re planning on staying in Jader until nightfall, then take the ship over. That gives everyone time to relax… And stock up on any food we’ll need for the rest of the trip,"

Andre did not even attempt to hide his eyeroll.

Feit grinned to himself and nudged Andre’s chest-plate with his elbow to share his pride. The blonde man frowned at him but Feit was sure he saw a smirk there somewhere.

 


	25. The ultra dark of family issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pieces  
> 3/10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter introduces a new character! She's a wild one. Hopefully the relationships between characters is becoming more readable as we have more and more scenes of certain people together. There are soo many characters so we hope it doesn't get too convoluted or confusing but each of them have their own complex personalities and add to the telling of this tale. Don't forget to comment and let us know what you think! it is always appreciated~
> 
> ~Kim & Kill

It took them till the sun had risen to it’s peak before they began to slow at the town entrance where a few cheerful guards shouted to them and cheered at the fluttering Inquisition banner. Julien appeared to shrink back into his saddle and tucked behind his scarf at the attention.

"Amatus, you don’t need to worry, with me here no one will bother to look any further than this gorgeous face." lent over and planted a kiss on Julien’s cheek.

Julien felt his cheeks warm and it wasn’t because of the scarf. He loved how Dorian knew his insecurities and did his best to alleviate them rather than tease him about it or roll his eyes. His support meant the world to him - it truly did. He smiled his lopsided, sheepish smile and returned the kiss, this time on the lips. Andre cleared his throat loudly.

"For someone who is shying away from the spotlight, you do so love to make a scene.." He grumbled not making eye contact with them, instead pretending the buildings passing by we’re the most interesting things in the world.

Solas woke Aphel from being huddled precariously between crates of dried food and various weapons. It took only a moment of sneezing before Aphel leapt from the cart and jogged with him up to Julien, keeping her distance from the whinnying horses who looked exhausted. Feit watched his sister curiously as a shiver pricked at the hairs on his arms.

“This is where we get the ship?” She asked, trying to only speak as much as necessary. Who knew what could come out of her mouth if she wasn’t careful?

“Yes, Cullen’s party should have met with our captain to ensure our passage. I’ll have to meet with him but we aren’t leaving until sundown. I wish we could spend more time here.” Julien mused grumpily. “Trecking through snowy mountains really isn’t good for my back-” Julien was cut off by shouting not too far away. The crowd parted before them all, revealing a guard roughly holding onto a very terrified looking elven woman being stared down by another elf – this one appeared Dalish. Her dark Tattoos showed as stark streaks on her pale forehead and cheeks, peaking from her long black hair, yet she was wearing boots – quite unusual. The guard muttered out something inaudible from Julien’s position but the Dalish woman appeared to not approve of what ever it was. She stomped closer to the man, drawing an arrow out of her quiver and pointing it at him.

“Bullshit! I saw her pay for it! With good gold! Unhand her, Shemlen, or I will shove this arrow so far up your urethra, your cock could be mistaken of a sish-kabab!” she spat angrily.

The guard visibly crumbled under her intense gaze and released the girl.

“S-sorry m’mam! I-I-I was mistaken…” he mumbled.

The Dalish did not seem satisfied.

“That shite of an apology won't unsully the food you knocked from her hands!” she growled, still stomping ever closer, “What will she eat tonight? Your ‘sympathy’? You’re supposed to uphold the law, not abuse your power by picking on innocents! Fix it! Sahlin!” _Now_ _!_

Her verbal barrage knocked the rest of what little confidence the guard had from him. He threw the woman a few gold pieces and scampered off quickly into the thinning crowd. The Dalish woman helped the elf to her feet and checked her for wounds. There were none. With a gentle smile, she picked up the coins and placed them firmly in her hands. Julien could not hear the words they exchanged, but the city elf seemed very thankful and relieved. She turned her gaze to him, though not for long as it passed straight over and locked onto Feit. The joy from her features drained and was replaced with a more stern expression – almost anger or annoyance.

“Da’assan! Garas.” _Come._  she growled, pointing the spot in front of her.

Feit’s eyes widened but it was too late to hide, so he let out a small moan of resignation as he stumbled from his horse, running over to the woman and landing on his knees at her feet. Aphel raised her eyebrows but didn’t move forward until the woman began gripping Feit by his head and shaking him while growling at him in broken Elvhen as he whimpered and apologised.

"Cypress for Andruil’s sake, don’t kill him." Aphel called out.

Cypress’ head shot up and Feit was forgotten almost immediately, her grip on him lost. Was that? It couldn’t be she was…. but she was clearly standing right there! With a bunch of stupid looking humans, sure, but she was here.

“A-Aphel? Fenedhis!” she swore loudly, shoving Feit to the side as she closed the distance between them. Her arms flung around her chest and she pulled Aphel into a rib-cracking hug, murmuring apologies and missed yous and how are you even heres into her neck. Andre stepped forward and slowly paced around the area, shooing off any stragglers from the crowd. He held out a hand to Feit and helped him back onto his feet, walking him over to the other two.

“I take it she’s a friend of yours?” he said, clearing his throat.

Cypress glanced up and shot him a glare that could kill.

“Shut up, len’alas lath’din! It’s rude to interrupt reunions you know!” she spat before fussing over Aphel again.

He had no idea what she just said, but he could tell it wasn’t very nice.

Aphel lifted the blue-eyed elf in her arms and laughed as she hugged her friend. “Aneth’ara lethallan, melava ma bora. _I thought we'd lost you._ You always know how to make an entrance. But please keep Fey’s head attached.”

Feit stood and swayed as his vision spun, still a little too startled to speak.

“Make an entrance? That guard was taking advantage of that poor girl! I couldn’t stand by and… oh you were taking the piss,” she smiled slightly before her usual sour expression appeared, “Peh! Feit should know better then to run off without telling me and then not even attempt contact! The Keeper was worried…” she trailed off. She wanted to yell and scream and hit Aphel for doing the same but she was too scared this wasn’t real and doing anything like that would cause her to disappear again.

Celeste heard the sound of armor jingling about before she saw Cullen and a group of Inquisition soldiers jog over to the disturbance, confusion written on their faces momentarily before spotting the Inquisitor.

“What is going on? We heard screaming and... I guess you fixed whatever the problem was,” Cullen chuckled nervously, glancing about. Julien waved Cullen over to him and as the Commander passed, he let a curious look linger over Aphel; the person whom Celeste talked about. When there eyes met he quickly looked ahead without a pause in his step.

“Why are you travelling with these shems, Da’mi?” Cypress hissed into Aphel’s ear, glaring at Andre in particular.

Aphel looked around to those who had waited behind and sighed. “Not all humans… nae, I won’t go into this again with you. It’s a complicated story anyway, best told over a drink. But I am thankful to see this frown of yours again. What are you doing here?”

Feit finally got himself steady while clinging to Andre and chose not to volunteer for any more of a beating and hid silently beside the Human. Andre held his arm out slightly in front of Feit, feeling a little protective of him. Feit was a valuable member of their expedition, not because he was fond of him! Because he wasn’t!

Cypress scrunched up her nose and poked a tongue out at Andre before turning her gaze back to Aphel. “I’m here because I was sent to rescue Feit from the Inquisition. I was on my way but the elves here are treated so poorly! They needed my help!”

“Fey, you said Keeper knew you were gone!” Aphel turned with a stern look to her brother.

Feit gave the two woman a sheepish look but didn't answer.

Julien cleared his throat and carefully stepped forward towards the elves. Best sort out what's going on here now, lest they all be standing out in the open for the remainder of the day. This other elf seemed to be familiar with both Aphel and Feit but honestly, she was kind of terrifying. Julien wasn't sure what it was but she gave him the heebie-jeebies.

“Excuse me. Not meaning to interrupt here but-” he said awkwardly before Celeste pushed past him and finished his sentence with more confidence.

“How about we continue this conversation in a tavern or cafe? I has been a long journey and everyone’s tired. I’m sure Aphel would appreciate the rest too,” she smiled.

Cypress scoffed at her, “Surprised a Lady of your calibre would stoop so low as to eat with us knife-ears.”

Aphel grimaced but let the comment slip by. “Show us a good place Cy, somewhere private would be good. We’ll meet the rest of the party at the harbour before the sun dips too low.” Aphel nodded to Solas and Blackwall to join them as well. 

Cypress rolled her eyes and motioned for them to follow her.

“Since we’re bringing the Shems we can’t go to my usual place, but I do know of a small cafe that doesn’t mind serving elves. The owner is nice enough I suppose. Come.”

Celeste bit her lip. She would be lying if Aphel’s failure to defend her didn’t hurt. Suddenly she didn't really feel like going, like she would just be an annoying tag along. Or perhaps she just simply did not feel like being around Aphel for the moment. Her own doubts about the nature of their relationship was niggling in the back of her mind maybe sticking with Julien was the best course of action here. But then again, avoiding her completely was childish! It was like her Father would always say - It's best to treat the wound immediately rather than waiting around for it to fester. She stood completely stationary, unable to come to a decision.

As they went through the town, Aphel turned to see Celeste looking despondent. Half of her wanted to simply leave, certain whatever she’d become tainted by would only make things worse for Celeste in the short time they had, but most of her simply wanted to embrace her and apologise.

* * *

Feit decided not to part from his safe place, smiling up at Andre “Praise the ancestors I thought she might have tried to drag me with her. She’s the elf everyone warns you about before you go to sleep at night.”

Andre felt the corner of his lip tug upward for a moment before he stopped it.

“That doesn’t surprise me, although honestly, I think I fit that role amongst my peers,” he groaned before continuing, “She seems to be pretty peeved at you, any particular reason?"

Twiddling his fingers through the end of his hair, Feit shrugged as he replied with a small voice. "I dunno, I just forget to tell people what I'm doing sometimes... and then keeper sends her after me. It's not like I don't plan to come back, I just have things to do that doesn't involve wandering forests and plains all my life."

"I can understand tha-"

“Damn it! I was going to try and cash in on that Cheesecake Aph owes me!” Julien pouted, cutting off Andre mid-sentence and crossing his arms in a child-like manner.

"Oh I’ll feed you something sweet, love." Dorian drawled and captured Julien’s mouth

Julien let himself be pleasantly surprised for only a moment before he reciprocated with the same amount of passion, letting his arms snake themselves around Dorian’s neck. Andre turned beet red and turned his head as the slight hip grinding began.

“L-l-let me show you that restaurant with the delicious crab!” he stammered as he grabbed Feit’s arm and dragged him out of the street. It only took a few minutes and some strange looks before Andre had dragged Feit into a large gaudy looking building plastered with advertisements for the local sights.

"Oh brilliant! You’re paying right? I’ve got no money. OH look at that! Fire-eaters! Do you think fire has a taste?"

Andre rolled his eyes. This kid.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll pay just… fire has a taste? Wouldn’t it just burn the shit out of-” he covered his mouth. Did he seriously just swear? He hoped Feit didn’t pick up on it! “L-Let’s just get inside, my stomach is beginning to growl.”

He let go of Feit’s arm and the two of them waited until they were seated by the stage, at Andre’s request.  The waitress greeted them both and handed over two menus and left, promising to return in a few minutes to get their orders. Andre looked through the menu thoroughly, and decided he would stick with what he knew - the chilli crab with steamed buns and rice. He glanced up at Feit, who was squinting at the menu with an annoyed expression. Poor kid, probably hadn’t even heard of half of these things.

“What would you like, Feit? Would you like me to recommend something?” Andre said, shuffling in his seat slightly.

Feit looked at the menu for a while and nodded. “I can’t decide, I guess I’ll have whatever you have, messere.” smiling at him and looking around them curiously.

The walls on the inside were covered in posters picturing different acts; puppets, dwarves doing acrobatics, and what looked like two Qunari attached at the hip. A small stage lit up with lanterns and mirrors currently displayed a singer whose dark curls swirled around her bronze skin that dripped with golden jewelry. Feit was enchanted by her salty voice as she sung a shanty about an Antivan lover and caught the roses thrown at her from her fans.

"Wow."

Andre smiled and clapped for her when she finished her song, he had to give credit where credit was due. Her voice was absolutely captivating, and her small precise dance movements fit with the tempo perfectly. The song had reminded him of Josephine however and he realised how much he missed her. He frowned a little. Perhaps he would write to her once they boarded the ship.

The waitress returned and Andre gave her their order, along with a bottle of non-alcoholic apple cider.

“Quite the voice she has, huh?” he commented, turning back to Feit who seemed completely entranced as the woman began another song.

"lovely." Feit was too enchanted to listen, instead resting his chin in his hands as he watched. After a few moments he could have swore she locked eyes with him and he quickly looked back to Andre, blushing madly. "B-bloody Mythal. uh what did you say?"

Andre chuckled and proceeded to tease Feit a little. “I only commented on the fairness of her voice, though you seem to be well aware of that. Why don’t you go speak to her afterward?” He felt odd. Lighter, somehow? Spending time with Feit like this was almost… enjoyable. The man seemed to be far more tolerable than any other he’d passed time with anyhow. He blamed his cheeriness with the atmosphere of this place. The waitress arrived with their meals and drink and bowed a little as she left. Andre poured cider out for the both of them before tucking in. Maker! This crab was just as good as he remembered!

“Oh… should I?” Feit smiled madly and looked down at his food. “Have you experience with… ladies? I know I may have been a bit presumptuous last night, I tend to say things without thinking sometimes, gets me in trouble a lot.” The food looked amazing and he began stuffing his face instantly.

Andre almost choked on his food. Coughing madly, he reached for his glass and downed the entire thing.

“I-I-I… er… that is… um…” he spluttered uncontrollably. He had zero experience with women. Like none. Zero. Na-dah. The farthest he’d ever gotten was that kiss on the cheek Josie had given him before they’d left. Hell, he’s never even _held hands_  before. During that thought, the songstress climbed down off the stage and sauntered over to them, suddenly plopping herself down on Andre’s lap and placing a hand on his chest.

“Oh my, are you okay kitten? You looked like you were about to choke to death,” she said silkily, running a hand down the front of his chest plate.

He gulped loudly and glanced over her shoulder to Feit, giving him a look that said help-me-please. Feit almost spat his food out when she joined them and barely managed to swallow the crab without it coming out of his nose.

“Ma’am, what a lovely voice you have!” He told her nervously and felt his face heating up, more than a little jealous of Andre. “Do you sing here often?”

The woman gave him a smile through her long lashes and leaned forward, giving Feit a tremendous view of her cleavage draped in the glittering gold of her necklace. He realised that even her lower lip was studded with the precious metal. 

“Only when I dock here sweet-heart. Sadly I’m setting Sail tonight, but that will be a few hours away If you two care for a little… dessert? I just adore Vanilla and Chocolate.” She winked and nibbled at Andre’s ear. “The Name’s Isabella. Captain Isabella.”

A shiver rose up though Andre at the mere touch of her lips. He felt his heart beating so fast it was as if it were going to burst from his chest. This… this is not how he… he thought his first would be… he couldn’t think straight. What was even going on right now? He just wanted to eat his meal in peace. How did today’s events even lead up to this?

“I.. I… I… um you’re sitting on my sword,” he stammered, trying to move his blade away from her legs.

Glacing up at her, he noticed the smirk on her face and the raised brow. His face grew redder.

“I-I mean my actual sword, darn it!”

“I don’t have a sword!” Feit blurted in an attempt to have her swap over to him and almost wanted to back down at the strange look he received from Andre. “You can sit here if you’d like.” he suggested, practically wriggling with nerves.

“Well aren’t you a smooth talker, chocolate.” Captain Isabella stood and did the same to the point of Feit’s ear and he practically melted under her gaze. “I just hate to leave without getting my treat, you two boys let me know if you’re still hungry later. Just ask for me at the bar.” She cooed at them and disappeared in the crowd as suddenly as the tide.

Feit sat silently with his mouth open until he looked to Andre and raised his hand to point in the direction she’d gone.

Andre wanted more than anything for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. That was the most awkward moment of his entire existence – ten times worse than the stable debacle! He opened and closed his mouth several times and just ended up covering his face with his hands to hide the redness.

“I… I mean we… how… why did she…” he said, his mind still reeling from the whole thing.

Feit began grinning madly. “I’m chocolate, you’re vanilla! get it?”

“I-I got that, Feit. Vanilla, huh? I suppose its better than being compared to butter…“ Andre began, "What I don’t get is…I mean… she doesn’t even  _know_  us…” he trailed off.

This Captain Isabela just… propositioned them out of the blue! Did Feit not find that even the littlest bit weird? What is it she was trying to do? Mug them? Take advantage of them somehow? He didn't understand her angle at all. He shook his head, digging into his food once more, attempting to push the thought of this encounter to the back of his mind.

Seeing Andre eating again, Feit copied him and stuffed his face while continuing to talk. 

“Oh come on- mmfph - wood yoe dust - mm - rewax? I’be never feen - mmf - a mowe gorweous woman - mm - in my wife.” Feit washed his meal down with an entire mug of the local ale and fiddled with his napkin as he waited for Andre to finish.

“She’s… she’s the second most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.” Andre replied quietly, blushing as he thought of Josephine. He didn’t rush through his meal like Feit had done. He took his time, enjoying what was probally the last solid meal they’d have for a long time. When he was done, he poured himself some more cider and sipped at it. “If you hold such affection for her, perhaps you should take her up on her offer…”

Feit was a little stunned at that. Take her up on it? As in sex? As in all the way? He fiddled with his ear and looked about himself. He had no problem jumping into strange and exciting new things, but when it came down to the crunch, Feit hesitated, looking out over the edge.

“I, err… I don’t… ugh” He groaned and flopped sideways onto the bench. “I’m not ready for that.”

The last person he’d had any sort of intimacy with was Gwyn when she was healing him. And then he was certain his heart pounded from fear rather than lust. Though thinking about it, seeing Isabella had been more of an admiration rather than desire. 

Andre sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the roof.

“I… I understand. I have… similar feelings on the matter…” he trailed off. He sat there for a moment before groaning inwardly. Did he just confess to being a virgin? That would make Feit the only one who knew. What if Feit didn’t even mean that? Would he laugh at him? Thats what most other men did when somebody admitted to that sort of thing – Andre had seen it happen a lot. “Er… I mean, I didn’t mean anything by it just.. urgh,” he grunted and just shut his mouth. There was no point trying to save face at this point.

Feit began giggling madly, sitting up with bright smiling eyes.

“I’ll say this Messere, you’ve made me more speechless than the Captain could! Apple would make me spend time with you more! she said I talk too much.” He waved his fork around as he chatted “You’re much nicer than I thought you were. Big humans scare me a little, but you’re really good. I’m happy.” He frowned then, forgetting what his point had been.

Andre was taken aback by Feit’s simple words. Him? Nice? Good? He was the first person who’d ever said such things to him. He didn’t really know what to say. So he just smiled back awkwardly.

“Uh… do you want some ice cream or dessert?” he babbled, trying to steer the conversation away from the sentimentality, “You can have what ever you like, I’m paying remember so don’t worry about prices…”

“Ice-cream!”

* * *

To say Cypress was difficult to read was a frustrating understatement, no matter how long Aphel knew her. So she leant towards assuming violence and disapproval. It had always been the safest bet when it came to figuring out her light-skinned clansman, glad for the watchful eyes of Solas, Celeste and Blackwall on the other side of the room who could witness any bloody outcome. In all honesty, despite her more solid build, even _she_ didn’t feel safe alone with Cypress. Her growing dread was confirmed when she took a swipe at Aphel's face after she had finished giving the context of their current situation.

“You rat!” Cypress felt her fury reach boiling point and let out a frustrated cry, pounding her hands on the table so hard it shook the condiments. So this Aphel wasn’t hers? That means this person she was sitting with was essentially a stranger then? Technically? She supposed it didn’t really matter and so she attempted to calm herself, sipping the strong Fereldan Ale in front of her. Ahhhh. Better. “Won't do no good to tell Keeper about this then.” she sniffed. “Nor try and tear our da’assan back. Knowing him he won’t leave yer back without a good scrap. I won't waste the blood.”

Aphel rubbed at her stinging cheek but a smile grew. “I wish you could see my side lethalin, the human’s faces when they saw an elf holding that sword. Absolute tits. Bear-” Aphel paused and remembered herself, “I mean Blackwall, _my_ Blackwall had a strange expression the first time we met, but we became good friends quickly.” she raised her eyebrows to the man who leaned against the far wall, pretending to watch the streets from the mucky window. Affection eased slowly into her voice along with a little heart ache at having missed her bear for so long and waved the companions back over.

Cypress raised an eyebrow and glanced at the man in question.

“Bear?” she tried to stifle her harsh laughter but ultimately failed, “He doesn’t look like a ferocious beast… more like one fat, hairy possum,”

As Solas, Blackwall and Celeste made their way over they caught the end of the conversation; Celeste spat out her iced tea at that metal image, unable to suppress her own giggling. The offended look on the man’s face was priceless! She grabbed a napkin as she sat at down and began to mop up her mess, flashing everyone a sheepish smile as she did so.

Aphel nudged her with her toes but didn’t bother to chastise Cypress. “It is… a joke between me and him. I’d never met a hairier shem before.” Aphel snorted. “But really, this deal with the Tevinters, It might be a bloody battle if you’re up for plunging into some shemlen skulls. They do make a sweet sound cracking open.” It felt like too long since the fight with the Lord Trevelyan, she’d been able to get her skin dirty with gore from those soldiers and just the memory gave her shivers.

Cypress raised a brow. Her Aphel had not been so bloodthirsty, that was for sure. Since when had she been down for cracking Shem skulls? Being Inquisitor could have changed her but she highly doubted it. She would have to keep an eye on her. And besides. She'd pretty much already made up her mind to go – whether Aphel liked it or not.

“Of course I'm comin' with ya! Skull crushing is my speciality!” she said with a wild grin on her face, “Besides, you know I can’t let Feit out of my sight… little gobshite would run off again and I’d have to spend another few weeks hunting him down.” She took another mouthful of the ale and swished it around in her mouth for a moment. That shem really was quite hairy. She would never admit it out loud, but she kind of wanted to touch his beard- wait. She’d seen him somewhere before! “Hey, Possum.” wiggling a finger to draw him closer. “Did you compete in The Grand Tourney a few years back? Your eyes are familiar…” she trailed off.

Blackwall’s expression was suspicious at first, then confused, until it lastly became pensive. “Aye, Markham. I won, not so bad for a human, ‘that right?”

She flashed him a wide smile. “I thought it was you! You were a wild one that day! You and that Chevalier cut through all those Orlesian ponces right quick!” She had been quite young back then. That was just before she’d been picked up by the Dalish. When she was younger, she’d been quite enamoured with the idea of knights and all that romanticized chivalry crap. She’d been a stupid, sentimental child. She cleared her throat she continued. “You weren't bad I suppose. Above average.”

Blackwall quietly laughed at her obvious slip. “You could say that.”

“Shame you couldn’t do it by yourself.” Aphel remarked casually as she looked past him at Celeste and Solas.

Celeste was talking quietly about the previous night, her outburst, Andre’s words and strangely Aphel’s too, rambling in pondering circles and fingering the wood of her tea-cup as Solas nodded occasionally and made suggestions here and there, though he kept his eyes trained on Aphel all the while. He could see something was absolutely not right.

“I just don't know how to approach her or how to bring it up...” Celeste wandered off, placing her face in her hands.

She honestly felt awful and confused. Nobody came out looking good last night, except maybe Cullen and Varric. She’d probably overreacted to the whole deal with Andre but the way Aphel had just… abandoned her. Had she deserved it? What had she done or said for her to react like that? This is why she was hesitant with entering relationships – there was so much drama involved!

Aphel had become increasingly attached to Celeste, so when Solas saw the two now after hearing Celeste’s recount, he felt something dark scratching in his gut. “I wouldn’t take these things to heart falon, you are all under so much stress there are bound to be things done and said that are fuelled by fear.” Was it this world? Was it the mark? He watched her now as she smiled and laughed simply, eating up the energies of her clansman, even Blackwall appeared to be engaging, their conversation, his face slightly red perhaps from embarrassment. Aphel looked to be perking up quite well.

“I know I shouldn’t but it is easier said than done, I am afrai-” Celeste's voice wavered as she noticed a familiar face enter the tavern. She quickly grabbed a menu and buried her face in it. Solas must be giving her the strangest of looks right now but she didn’t care. That coppery hair, that tanned skin, that arrogant smile could only belong to one person. “Shit, Solas hide me! That man that just entered- don’t turn to look at him! H-he’s my betrothed! You have to sneak me out of here o-or get him to leave.” she swallowed loudly. Well. Perhaps _betrothed_ was too strong a word. She saw him as more of a suitor really. Her Father had arranged for the two of them to be married, though Celeste did not agree to it at all. The man was completely unbearable! Loathsome! But he was also heir to a rather wealthy family over in Ansburg. She supposed the arrangement was null and void now her father was out of the picture but he didn’t know that. Celeste groaned.

Maker help her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sahlin: now  
> Da’assan! Garas: Little arrow, come  
> Len’alas lath’din: Dirty child no one loves  
> Aneth’ara lethallan, melava ma bora: Hello my cousin, I'd lost you.  
> Da'mi: Little blade  
> Nae: no


	26. Siblings are more than rivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pieces  
> 4/10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the mix-up! Accidently this chapter was missed and the following posted in it's place. Hopefully things weren't spoiled. Chapter 27 shall be reposted in its proper order.
> 
> ~Kim & Kill

Torun Selbrech let his heels snap against the tavern floorboards, brimming with satisfaction when the clean sound made heads turn. He swung his way between the slightly muddy customers to rap a few polished fingers sharply on the bar followed by the clink of coins.

“One for me, aaand…” he turned about, searching the lounge for a target until his eyes stopped, locked on Cypress’ dark hair and shining blue eyes. “One for the gem at the end of the bar.” He ordered, giving the elf a toothy smile.

Cypress snarled at his slack jawed lips that pursed into a smooch, sending her waves of lust. The buffoon carried the drinks to her, slithering in front of Blackwall to introduce himself.

“Evening madam, a drink for you? My name is Torun.” He draped over her, almost sloshing the Ferelden ale on himself in his swooping bow.

Cypress felt herself boiling over from his mere proximity but stood still. “I ain't thirsty for nothin’ you’re spoutin’, shem.”

Torun raised an eyebrow, “My sweet, I can spout so much more than this swill.”

At that Cypress bristled and immediately spat in his eye, prepared to elbow the fool’s nose up into his skull until she noticed he was already falling back, a rather hairy arm wrapped around the shem’s neck as Blackwall dragged the whimpering sod out of the tavern.

Cypress grinned, kicked at the fallen mugs of ale and turned back to Aphel who looked peaked if not a little on the side of enraptured by the scene.

“Your Bear is more useful than he seems da’mi.”

With a dangerous look in her eye, Cypress kicked her chair backward as she stood and followed both the men out of the building with a little skip in her step, far too eager to show this shem she wasn't to be trifled with. The door slammed behind them and Celeste flinched. She didn't care much for Torun but she also didn't want him to end up a bloody pulp.

“On a scale of one to ten, just how unhinged can Cypress get when angered?” Celeste asked, trying her best to be casual as she lowered the menu away from her face.

Aphel didn't respond. She stood with an entranced look on her face, making her way out the door as the others had. The eldest Trevelyan shot Solas a concerned look and with an exasperated sigh, the both of them followed suit.

“I said let go you bloody mongrel!” Torun grunted.

Blackwall simply rolled his eyes and threw the whelp to the dirt. “Come back when you learn how to speak to a person with respect.”

Cypress flashed a sardonic grin, practically buzzing from giddiness. Look at that fancy-pants Shem, face down in the dirt! This "Blackwall" hadn’t lost his touch over the years then. She waltzed forward towards him and planted a boot firmly in between his shoulder blades, pushing him further down. She cursed to herself inwardly. For once she couldn’t think of anything witty to say.

 “Is this necessary?” Solas warned Cypress, attempting to diffuse the woman by pointing out the audience she was gathering, particularly those who looked to be city guards.

Torun, now humiliated with his nose in the dirt, became silent after seeing Celeste. Celeste fucking Trevelyan. He swore under his breath. Were they really that determined to drag him back to Ansburg? Trying to tempt him with the girl of his dreams? He wondered if spontaneous combustion was possible right now.

“I could crush you like a bug.” Cypress cackled and ground her mucky shoes into his back.

Celeste was torn. Part of her was glad he was being humbled – his ego sometimes grew so large it could fill an entire auditorium on its own but there was another part that pitied him. It was true that he'd been particularly slimy not a few moments earlier but... with an annoyed tsk, she stepped towards the spectacle and  knelt down to be on his level.

“Hello, Torun. I see you’ve gotten yourself into another bind here. You really do need to learn to watch yourself… we aren't at one of Aunt Lucille’s salons after all. Most people around here don’t take too kindly to nobles throwing their weight around.”

Torun blushed and felt his eyes sting. “I…I never said anything like that, Celeste. I’m using my own money now. Would you get off me you bloody shit!”

Throwing her arms up in the air, Celeste rolled her eyes in vexation and averted his gaze as she stood. Honestly, was he looking to be ground into mince? 

“Cypress, I must apologise on behalf of this sorry excuse for a man. His behaviour has been utterly abhorrent. If you would be so kind as to step off him?” she asked, trying to be civil

 Cypress tsk’d and gave one last happy little grind before stepping away and looking about. “What the fuck are you looking at!?” She shouted at the passers-by who had paused to find some interest in their dull lives.

Aphel stayed silent and watched, feeling the evening air begin to chill beneath her skin. So she huddled closer to Solas for warmth.

Torun stood and brushed at his vest fussily without meeting Celeste’s eyes. “So let’s have it then, how did you find me?”

 Celeste raised a brow. “Find you? I can’t say I was even looking for you. I went to go see Julien, he’s the head of the Inquisition now, you know,” she replied.

 “So… my family didn’t send you? B-but I ran away! I thought they’d at least send someone!” He huffed audibly.

 “You ran way? How long ago?” Celeste said, gulping a little. The letters she'd been receiving... could they have been from his mother? Well... shit. Now she felt bad for burning them all.

The look of confusion was just about all he needed to see to know what must have been going on. So mother wasn’t even bothering to find him now was she? Torun wondered if that pinned up broad who birthed him even bothered to shed a single tear before striking his name from the records, moving the title on to his younger siblings. Well she could go stuff a pigeon in it!

"Bloody maker, it’s been a year! They can all get blighted for all I care!” he waved his arms in frustration. “It was just magnificent seeing you again Celeste, but I’m not in the mood for a reminiscing session anymore I think. I have places to be where people actually care about me.” He bowed shortly and shouldered a path through the group.

“Torun, wait!” Celeste called out as she half-jogged after him.

She felt incredibly guilty for how blasé she'd been about letters from his family – she'd thought they were love letters from him, nothing serious! If only she'd opened just one of them. He had the right to know his family had been searching for him. Probably. They'd never know for sure. She reached out and grabbed his arm as he caught up with him.

“I-I did receive letters from Ansburg...” she said, trailing off. It sounded so much worse when said out loud!

 He locked his slate grey eyes back to hers, just wanting to run away again. “Then it appears they weren’t that important to you then.”

 Just as her Father had taught her, she held his gaze firmly and did not let his biting tone get to her. In situations like this, glancing away would show weakness and she most certainly wasn't about to let him walk all over her.

“I have not hidden how I feel about you, Torun. I thought they were more pointless, sugary poems from you – they were written on the same stationary.” she said coolly.

 Strangely enough he chuckled, not looking in the least bit offended. Something that had annoyed her on many occasions. Couldn’t he just be honest with her for once? It was infuriating!

“Well I assure you, there’ll be no more rubbish rhymes from yours truly; I’ve given up the pen you see. Ink is simply too shallow; so a sailor’s life it’ll be.” With a wink Torun left her wondering if that rhyme was intended.

“Prick.” Celeste grumbled under her breath. “Thinks he’s so smart…”

 The sailor's life? He couldn't be serious, that would require actual thought and physical activity. Frowning, she returned to the group, grumbling under her breath. Damn him for getting the last word in!

“Well, now that’s over I believe it is time for us to re-join our group. Wouldn’t you agree?” Blackwall said, looking to the sky for the sun's positioning.

“Yes… I don’t want to tarry here much longer, lest that slimy barnacle returns and attaches himself to me once again,” she scowled.

* * *

The docks weren’t too crowded when their group arrived as the saltiness of the sea-breeze blew in the occasional gale and the sky was painted with the warm hues of the sunset. Cullen stood with his three or so Templars who had begun packing the necessities onto their waiting ship, helped by and old looking dwarf, a dark skinned human, and the chargers. Gwyneth and Iron Bull joked between each other while helping the chargers and Andre paced back and forth in front of a stoic looking elf with a red scarf tied over the lower-half of her face and short cropped dark brown locks shadowing the rest. Julien and Dorian looked particularly restless while they snuggled beneath a shared blanket.

“It’ll be ok, we’ll only be on the sea for a couple days, a week at the most.” Julien rubbed Dorian’s back gently.

“If I don’t drown myself in that sea, I’ll be drowning in Agreggio.” Dorian bayed.

 Julien chuckled quietly at the grandstanding and nuzzled himself into Dorian's neck, kissing gently here and there.

“You'll not be drowning on my watch, Dor.” he murmured into the warm flesh.

After practically wearing a hole in the dock with his pacing, Andre finally felt his patience burn out completely. This was ridiculous! How long were they intending on making them all wait out here?! He finally stomped over to the scarf-garbed elf, stopping just short of trampling her.

“And exactly when will the captain be here?” Andre glowered at her. “Or do you expect us to wait around all night? We have to be on our way as soon as possible!”

The elf remained silent, lifting a booted foot to scratch at her ankle.

Andre threw his hands up in frustration. Talking to this elf was like talking to a brick wall! He just wanted to get on the damn ship and hurry up and get this sailing business over and done with!

“Vanilla! Fancy meeting you here!” A familiar velvety voice called out from behind.

Andre felt himself freeze on the spot. Captain Isabella sauntered past him, stroking across his chest-plate as she did so.

“Oh. I don’t suppose…” he gestured to the ship dumbly.

She smirked at him and nodded, “That gorgeous creature is my ship, darling. Am I right in assuming you’ll be one of the passengers on my fine vessel?”

Andre gulped and nodded.

“Brilliant! I was so sad when you and Chocolate slipped away from me earlier… speaking of which, where is he?” she said glancing around.

Feit whimpered nearby, his ear in the tight grip of Cypress’ drawing hand as she held him still while she joked with a few of the ships other crew members.

At that moment a husky laugh had the Captain turning on her boot heal and giving a girlish squeal as she jumped into Varric’s arms.

"Varric!! You little bastard!”

“Good to see you again Rivaini, brought you a nice poison to make up for the long silence, straight from the Skyhold alchemist.” He smiled his best smile at her gleaming eyes and held up a small crystal vial which she clutched and held up to the harbour’s lamp light before tucking it away between her breasts.

“That’ll do sweetie. Just waiting for Fen to get back with the  extra booze and we should be right for sailing. Hark!” Isabella shouted and a little black-haired human boy with freckled olive skin and only one ear jumped across the wooden slats connecting the ship to the dock, marching up to her hip and gave her a sharp salute. “Get the payment  my little angel.”

Hark stomped towards Andre and held out his hand. With a hiss of frustration, the human in question reached into a belt-pouch and grabbed out a heavy bag of coins, grumpily dumping it into the boy’s hand.

“It’s all there but I suppose you’ll want to count it.” he grumbled.

Why did he have to pay again? Didn’t Julien have an entire Inquisition at his disposal? Surely they could have paid this ludicrous sum? Sighing, he remembered Josephine’s frowning face as she’d tried to crunch the numbers. Honestly, that woman made him too soft. Varric cleared his throat.

“So, Broody is still with you then? Well… this is going to be awkward,” he said, nervously glancing back at Dorian who was still being doted on by Julien.

Isabella followed his gaze and smirked wildly “Got a mage then have we? Oh sweetie those two are a dream.”

“Mages. And the moustache there, well the word Altus springs to mind. I’ll give ‘em a warning but please, do your best to not get my friend fisted. Through the chest that is.”

"Ohh Bella what have you got yourself into.” She groaned to herself and rubbed at her brow. “I make no promises.”

Hark came plodding back to Isabella and held the purse up to her

“All there? Good. Go stash it then, and fetch my hat. The big one. We’ll have to make a go of it for our Lord Inquisitor. He’s the flame-crotch, am I wrong?”

“In so many words.” Varric eased “You better give me a good bed, Rivaini.”

Julien leaned in and gave Dorian a quick peck on the cheek. He felt completely useless. If only there was more he could do for him other than hold the bucket when he got sick… a thought flashed into his mind.

“You know, a few days alone on a ship isn’t so bad… just think of all the things I could do to distract you…” he purred, running a hand up his partner’s arm gently.

 That seemed to have perked him up and Julien was sure he would have said something back if Varric hadn’t interrupted them.

“So, just a heads up; Sparkler – there’s going to be a crazy, glowy elf on board that will be intent on murdering you horribly if he finds out you’re a mage from Tevinter so… try to be inconspicuous.” he said so nonchalantly, Julien thought it was a joke at first.

“Me? Dorian of house Pavus? Inconspicuous?” Dorian brought his hand to his chest, looking largely offended, “utter blasphemy, Varric.”

“Yeahh… I’m not kidding. He will literally rip your still beating heart from your chest.”

Julien looked quite ill at the notion and clung to Dorian’s robes nervously.

“Bella!” A deep gravelly voice shouted out across the harbor and their gazes turned to see a vision of horror as a blood and gore soaked man stomped up to them with two bottles of wine in each bloodied fist, his deep green eyes shadowed by long white hair that fell about his shoulders.

“They didn’t have the rest of them” he shrugged “but I got their manifest.”

“That would be the elf I was talking about,” Varric mumbled before walking off to greet his old friend.

Julien let out a tiny, terrified, almost soundless scream that only the two of them could have heard. He grabbed Dorian’s hand and squeezed it as hard as he could, turning to give the man a gaze that pleaded him not to misbehave.

“Please Dor, I don’t… I can’t lose you after all of this! Maybe we should just go around and skip the sea and being on the ship entirely? You and me and Cupcake! I’m sure it wouldn’t take that long! I-I mean, you would feel better about not being on the water, I would feel better knowing you would have all of your organs intact, everybody wins!” he stammered, suddenly way more anxious than Dorian was moments earlier.

 Dorian’s eye twitched at the thought of having to hide himself away for the sake of some bloody, literally in this case, shipmate who apparently hated Tevinter mages. Sure, it was easy to brush off those prejudices from people who were, for the most part, not wrong per say, but blind enough to be unable to see past the obvious reality that Dorian was his own man; here in Ferelden of all places, helping to save the world because he wanted to. Not for fame nor for any self-indulgent lust for power.

He looked up at his lover and let out a deep breath.

“Oh very well. I’ll behave dear. Quiet as a mouse.”

Isabella strode up to Julien and held out her hand to him, with a tempting smile. “Hello boys. Can’t tell you how honoured I am to be taking your coin. Captain Isabella is the name.”

Julien let out a sigh of relief, grasped her hand tightly and shook it.

 “Well met, Captain. Varric has told me mostly good things about you. I’m Julien Trevelyan, although I’m sure you already knew that. My partner here is-”

 “Dorian Pavus, at your service,” the mage interrupted with a small bow.

 Julien flashed him a small smile, thankful for the non-grandiose introduction. He hoped this whole situation wouldn’t be too stifling for him.

 “Your friend over there sees very… lively,” Julien said, nodding in Fenris’ direction, “I’ve read the Tale of the Champion. Is the fisting thing real? Or was Varric embellishing again?”

 “Hate to spoil the surprise.” She winked at them.

 Little Hark came running up then with a large feathered hat held carefully out in front of him, so focused on taking care to not drop it that he almost tripped. Isabella grabbed his collar in time to save him and her hat. With a swoop she bowed to Julien and fit the hat snugly on her head.

 “Alright you nug-loving bastards! ON DECK! Greet the Lord inquisitor with your BEST smiles. Except you Wyk."

 The various crew members, mostly made up of elves young and old with one dwarf, one Qunari and a few humans, scrambled about with the last of the baggage and made a line. Again she turned to Julien, “Welcome to the Daisy chain.”

 “Thank you all for having us here, your service is greatly appreciated. I hope we won’t cause you too much trouble,” he said, swooping into a bow.

 "The Daisy Chain?” Andre grumbled quietly, rolling his eyes a little at the ridiculous name.

Cypress pushed past Dorian and walked out to inspect the crew. Walking up to one of the smaller elves she bent down to get on their level.

“She treat you well?”

The elf nodded enthusiastically with a smile and Cypress’ expression softened. She stood and clapped the Captain on the back.

“You’re alright, for a Shem.” Cypress told her as though seeing a standard met.

"I’d remove that hand sweetie or you might lose it, at least until my first mate gets to know you better.” Isabella smiled as Fenris glowered from over her shoulder.

Feit immediately found Gwyn and the Chargers, glad to be freed for the moment and taking full advantage of the new environment. He noticed Aphel board and head below deck without even pausing for a second to admire the view of the harbour nor the ship itself. She used to love beautiful scenes.

The ship was large and burnished with Rivaini trims that stood out from the Free-marcher workmanship as though customised particularly with the captain in mind. Celeste ran a hand over a hand rail, appreciating the fine workmanship. This ship was beautiful! One for the finest she’d ever laid her eyes upon. She couldn’t wait to explore the rest of the ship!

* * *

The night descended quickly and by the time they had reached open ocean the moon and a field of stars glinted in the clear pitch black sky. The lanterns were lit in the belly of the ship while a warm and moderately spicy broth was ladled out to each hungry mouth.

Fenris sat next to Varric while Isabella reclined, supporting Hark on her knee. Celeste and Cullen both, chatted away to some of the crew as Blackwall and Cypress tucked into their meals. Gwyneth had Feit and Andre either side while the Iron Bull relaxed against a wall. Aphel sat silently with her bowl in her lap, feeling far too cold to be possible in such a packed room.

During a lull in her conversation, Celeste looked up at Aphel. The discussion she’d had with Solas ran through her mind for a moment. She needed to go talk to her – desperately. They hadn’t really had a one on one talk since the lake and she certainly didn’t want this rift between them to grow any larger. She didn't know what she was going to say or how to even approach her but if it was one thing Celeste was good it, it was bullshitting her way through conversations. Taking in a deep breath, she excused herself from the group and wandered over to her with bowl in hand.

“Hey ‘Phel,” she said, quietly plopping down next to her, “How is the sea treating you?”

 Aphel flinched slightly at the soft sound of her voice full of worry and imagined her Hahren leaning over her with that same care and concern no matter how many times she’d done wrong. So she hesitated to look up, seeing Celeste’s strong profile as she patiently waited for a reply.

“It is more beautiful than I could have imagined. I just wonder if I really should be here now.” She confessed quietly.

 Celeste turned back to face her. Something was eating at her, she could tell. She’d not seen the elf so… downtrodden. With a small smile she held onto Aphel’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze.

“What makes you say that? You know you are always welcome with us… Julien has told me how much he values your friendship. You deserve your place here.” she said, leaning in to rest her head atop Aphel’s.

Aphel squeezed onto Celeste’s shoulders but kept her thoughts silent. The woman’s body was so warm and she couldn’t help but tuck herself into it. She breathed in Celeste’s almost spicy scent and felt her throat constrict a little. What’s wrong with me? Aphel lent back, trying to capture Celeste’s gaze to give her a proper apology for the night she’d left her in the snow but her words were interrupted by Dorian and Julien trundling down the ladder into the galley.

 “I’ll eat when I’m hungry, dear! I don’t care if he’s down there, I won’t be chained like some bloody southern circle mage!”

“B-but Dor! If you hang on for just a few more minutes we-” Julien stopped himself as they came into full view of everyone. Argh. So much for subtlety.

Julien swallowed hard and flashed a nervous smile at Varric followed by a shrug. He’d really done his best to keep Dorian away from Fenris but when the man had a thought in his head there was no stopping him. Or in this case if there was a grumble in his stomach. Not even seduction had worked this time. He sighed. Perhaps this wouldn’t be too bad, they’d just grab some food then bail. Easy.

Dorian stomped pompously to the free seat beside the masked elf and sat down with a silent huff, taking a bowl of the broth which he eyed suspiciously.

“So…Dorian, Pleasure to meet you…” he trailed off

“Wyk.” Said the woman with a slight lisp on the w.

“Lovely mask. Did you make it yourself?”

Wyk squinted at him but nodded.

“Wonderful, lovely colour you’ve chosen.”

Julien awkwardly stood just behind Dorian. There weren’t really any seats left so this was where he would have to eat apparently. Clearing his throat, he leaned between the two of them and grabbed a bowl himself, spluttering out a slew of apologies as he went. He didn’t want to be rude after all.

Glancing around the room, he noticed quite a few eyes were on both him and Dorian. He stared back and swallowed a spoonful of broth and instantly regretted it. Holy sweet Maker, this was bland! It was awful! But he was too far away from the table to put it down so now he'd have to just stand here with in in his hand. How awkward! Maybe no one would notice if he acted casual.

“Pleasant trip so far… weather has been kind to us, yes?” Julien practically squeaked out, hoping his blather would bore the masses.  

 Rather than join Julien in his small talk, Fenris angled Julien with an intense gaze and spoke directly to him. 

“So, Inquisitor. Seems you’ve met our Hawke,” he stated over the din, “She’s quite unforgettable. Varric also says you’ve been doing decent work helping refugees. I’m glad someone with your kind of power is using it for the good of all. Though I wonder why exactly you aligned with the rebel mages.”

 Julien withered a little under the stern look. Shit. He'd hoped to avoid conversing with Fenris altogether.

“Yes, well you see we needed more power to strengthen my mark and the Mages seemed to be the best people for the job. That and well…” He glanced at Dorian for a moment before turning back to the elf, “Their situation seemed more dire than just grumpy Templars spitting the dummy.”

He internally patted himself on the back for side stepping the time-travel obsessed magister and the whole well-my-sister-is-a-mage deal. Yes. This situation was salvageable.

“What about you? I’ve read Varric's book. You’ve just been sailing about with the good Captain here for the past couple of years?”

 Fenris gripped his spoon tightly, holding on to his temper as Bella had taught him. “Even the best intentions cannot repent for the corruption of magic. Do not take this choice lightly.” He took a breath and sent a small smile to his Bella. “I came to the… understanding myself when I saw Hawke and her sister that mages are not essentially evil, but I’ve learnt to be cautious with those I do not trust.”

“But you don’t trust any of them.” Isabella jabbed at him.

The elf bit the air playfully in return but continued to answer Julien’s question. "The war between the mages and Templars is none of my concern anymore. Only those forgotten in the middle. Most of our crew are rescued slaves who chose to stay with us.”

“Fen has strong opinions” Isabella gleamed while Hark slid down from her knees and ran to tuck under one of Fenris’ lyrium lined arms which encircled the boy’s shoulder out of habit and came up with fingers combing his black hair. Hark looked up at him and Fenris raised his eyebrow in question before sighing and passing the boy the rest of his half eaten broth.

Julien felt his jaw clench as he glanced away from the elf to avoid his ire flaring up any further. Fenris wasn't the only one who had strong opinions regarding this rather sensitive topic. The way the man was talking about mages was... well it infuriated Julien more than he cared to admit. Mages were people, not stereotypes! He didn't want to start an argument now lest Dorian and Gwyn get dragged into it so he held his tongue, his response being a simple, dismissive “Hmmm”

He shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. Standing in one place for too long made him feel restless and his legs were beginning to ache. Dorian sensed this apparently, as he shuffled backward and tugged on Julien’s sleeve, gesturing for him to sit. He raised an eyebrow. There wasn’t any room! Unless… surely Dorian didn’t want him to sit on his lap. Right?

 Dorian tucked his arm around Julien and pulled gently to slide him between his legs so they both sat comfortable with Julien’s back against the mage’s chest. Here on the ship there were no obligations or titles and Dorian felt somehow freer than he had before, even while surrounded by bigoted elves and rocking waves that turned his legs to jelly.

Julien felt his cheeks heat up a little as he averted eye contact with everyone. Such a public display of affection was odd to him for reasons he hadn’t thought about in a good many years. He had no problem being honest about the fact that Dorian and himself were an item, but the mere idea of Dorian actually being willing to show it was not what he was accustomed to. This was such a simple gesture and he didn’t know how it made him feel. He felt his brain become all muddled – suddenly hyper aware of everything and everyone. Were they going to get strange looks? Laughed at? Would people think less of them? He knew he was being silly, hell they'd both been seen kissing earlier so what was this by comparison? The invasive thoughts still would not leave until he felt one of Dorian’s hands rub his side gently.

“Calm down, Amatus. Nobody cares about who you are here… look,” Dorian said to him in a soft, quiet voice.

Gathering the courage to actually look up, Julien saw the truth of it; nobody was even looking at them. They were all invested in their own conversations. Julien felt foolish for his paranoia.

Feit had inhaled his meal but continued to stare longingly at the bowl in front of Andre. Gwyneth was sipping away at hers while eyeing her elder brother. Had he forgotten about that night on the mountain? What exactly was it that was bothering him so much? And what did Celeste mean about the Varghests? She sighed as she watched him from her peripheral vision. He drank his soup slowly without looking up, deep in thought, and occasionally his cheeks would burn red as though a notion coming to mind was affecting him.

 Andre felt like he was going to throw up. The sea, even though it was fairly calm right now, did not agree with him. Even the slightest of movements was causing his stomach to churn. He came down here to eat because he had wanted to pull Gwyneth to the side afterward to tell her but he was beginning to realize how big of a mistake that was. Perhaps if would be better if he told her once they got back on solid ground. Nothing could be worse than if he confessed then immediately threw up on her. He shuffled in his spot slightly. If he kept putting it off it’d only get worse but he felt so ill.

“Excuse me. Thank you for the soup, it was good,” he said awkwardly, moving to get out of his seat and back to his room as fast as he could without losing it on the way.

 Aphel cradled her bowl after sitting in relative silence for the most part. Her thoughts were still muddled while her emotions trembled, not quite able to remember the last time she’d felt all herself. So she took a deep breath and turned to Celeste beside her.

"Celeste, I want to apologize properly for leaving you back on the mountain. I was wrong to do that. I'm so sorry. We became so close so quickly and I've ruined what we had. I think I need to apologise to Andre too." She kept her eyes lowered.

 The red-hair rouge leaned forward to rest her arms on the table with a sigh, hanging her head slightly as she thought. To be completely honest, she was still hurt from the whole ordeal and wasn't sure she'd had the proper amount of time to process what had happened. This relationship they had was complicated, to say the least. Aphel was supposed to have been Celeste's first 'serious' relationship; one that was meant to go on beyond sex. That didn't seem to be the case though. After they'd slept together and gone back outside what had they done? Gone their separate ways; Aphel to Solas and herself to Cullen. Her feelings and thoughts were all over the place to the point where she was just confused and frustrated. She wanted to just say 'sure, yeah! No problem! You are forgiven' but she couldn't. Not yet. Aphel was trying to make things better, but simply saying sorry didn't feel like it was enough. With a sigh, she shifted her head to look at Aphel with a slight frown on her face. The warrior wasn't even looking at her.

“Aph... I think I need more time to process what's happening.” she said slowly, trying to convey what she was feeling with great difficulty, “I'm new to this whole being in a relationship situation and I'm not sure how I’m supposed to react or feel and- Maker I don't even know what I'm saying anymore.”

 “We never really had our time, did we?” Suffice to say what they had was meant to be short and sweet and they’d both known that. Were both of them trying to find something which neither of them were able to give? “We must speak on this again. Please.”

Aphel leant up to leave a soft chaste kiss against Celeste’s cheek but Celeste raised her hand and turned into it, connecting Aphel’s lips with her own and giving a chiding nip to the elf for being so belligerent. The two of them, Andre and Aphel, were so much alike it was astounding. Giving her a bittersweet smile, Celeste patted the elf's shoulder gently.

“Of course, once we've both gathered our thoughts. If you intend on speaking with Andre, might I suggest standing at least a metre away from him? He gets awfully seasick and you don't want to get thrown up on,” she said as she turned back to the table.

* * *

Andre had made it outside before the need to heave hit him, currently leaning over the railing waiting for it to just come up already. He abhorred sailing! Thankfully most everyone was below deck so at least he had some privacy. He couldn’t allow anyone to see him like this, it was humiliating! The wind had picked up in the last few hours and for a moment Andre swore he heard someone laughing at him as he emptied his dinner into the ocean followed by a stream of curses. The acrid taste was far less appetising coming up than when it was going down.

"Do you need a hand?”

Andre spun and tripped, hitting his back against the rail while slamming his hands against it to stop from falling over. “What the devil do you want?”

Feit tugged at his ear; “you looked like shit during the meal, not good at all. I thought you might need a… hand?”

 Andre groaned. “What I need is a stronger stomach, I think…” he trailed off.

Covering his mouth with his hand for a moment, he tried to force his body to keep his food down. It didn’t work. He spun around quickly again for another hurl, this one ending in him coughing uncontrollably and his eyes watering. Yes. They were watering – he certainly wasn’t crying.

“Y-you... you should... go back inside… I’m fine,” Andre breathed out in between his convulsing.

“But what if you fall in?” Feit worried “No way, I’m not leaving you like this. It’s okay to rely on other people, Vhen’suledin.”

Feit wandered behind the man and picked up a nearby rope, twisting one end firmly on the rail and the other wrapping around Andre’s waist.

“There. Now you don’t have to worry.”

Andre was thankful, he truly was but he couldn’t even begin to form the words to say so. His body convulsed violently, gagging but nothing was coming out. He’d completely emptied his stomach at this point but it seemed as if nothing could stop the waves of nausea. Mouth was watering profusely and he tried to swallow but that only made it worse. Groaning, he reached out a shaky hand and patted Feit’s shoulder gently. He hoped that successfully conveyed his feelings.

“I’ll get you some water.” Feit grimaced at Andre’s sorry posture and swerved away, Aphel who barely seemed to register his presence as he greeted her in passing, but chose not to stop, Andre needed that water.

Andre let himself lean forward and rest his head on the rail. Closing his eyes, he listened to the sound of the water lapping against the side of the ship. It was equal parts soothing and sickening. Argh. If only they’d had more time they could have just… gone around the sea. His trip to Skyhold had been rougher by far, there had been a storm the nights he spent on that ship. He shuddered at the memory. Hearing footsteps, he opened his eyes and slowly turned. He was expecting to see Feit but it was Aphel, looking a little down. He turned back to look over the water.

“What brings you up here?” he said, trying his best to steel himself against his nausea.

 “How can you live with yourself when you know you have to leave someone you love? Even if there is no other way?”

Andre thought about it for a moment. He wasn’t very good with words or expressing feelings and he really wasn’t really sure why Aphel was asking him all this stuff but he, for once, actually wanted to help her. Perhaps Feit was rubbing off on him a little.

“Sometimes the world forces your hand and you have to make hard choices. There is no easy answers to any of your questions, Aphel. All I know is when you are in a situation like yours, you have to keep on going no matter how hard it is,” he moved his hand to hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze, “Hold onto what moments you have now. Be happy for the time you have and let yourself be sad only when the end of it arrives. You don’t want to sour whatever time you have together now with fears of the future.”

He hoped that helped her even a little bit. He was kind of proud of himself, finding all of those words to say - it felt good. Until he started dry heaving again.

 "I don't mean to... nae'suvenin. I want to apologise for what I said on the mountain. You didn't deserve someone to meddle in your family's affairs in that way." Aphel stepped up beside him and gripped the railing in a similar fashion, clinging to it for self-preservation. "I apologised to Celeste as well."

Andre breathed in shakily through his nose. He was bad at this whole accepting apologies thing. So he just nodded, glancing at her for a brief moment before turning back to the accursed sea.

"She's good at hiding her feelings around me," he said, covering his mouth again for a moment before the sick feeling passed. "Is she alright?"

“For now. There are too many things I won’t be able to help her with.” It seemed her time with the woman was all too quickly reaching its median point and once more she wondered why she would let herself feel this way for someone she would have to leave so soon. Feit was the same. Her little Fey. Sometimes she’d look at him and almost convince herself this world she’d fallen into couldn’t be anything but a dream. Aphel was becoming afraid of him, afraid of Celeste, afraid of Julien and Cypress. Afraid of herself. She was so afraid they were all just a part of some dream and any moment now she would wake up and find them all dead and gone. Again she felt the icy wind whip across her bare arms. What would it take for her to finally get warm?

Aphel turned away respectfully and considered his answer. “Were it done so easily” she murmured.

In other words, the best she could hope for was to leave as little of an impact as she could… A little late for that, Aphel mused to herself. Spending her time with Celeste and Feit as cherished memories. She would have said the same only a few days prior. But as the time in this new world moved forwards she felt a growing despair within herself.

Feit stomped, panting up the galley steps with a large flagon held to his chest.

Andre turned and practically ran over to Feit, snatching the flagon eagerly and downing as much of it as he could in one gulp. The water soothed his nausea and left him feeling a little more refreshed. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, all thoughts of properness escaping him entirely.

“T-thank you, Feit. I needed that,” he said, rustling the elf’s hair a little with his free hand. He turned back to Aphel who still looked troubled and hadn’t reacted to Feit’s arrival nor Andre’s desperation. “Perhaps you should return to Celeste? She’s very capable at cheering people up”

Aphel nodded silently at the suggestion and departed with an eerie coldness in her chest that felt almost completely overwhelming. As she did so, she turned in Feit’s direction and her heart shuddered with that fear of losing him again. Desperate to reach out and hold onto him, and inside something that had been waiting finally seized it’s chance.

Feit watched his sister, internally pleading for her to just look, look at me, look at me. She did for a moment but just as quickly, her gaze passed over him as though he weren’t really there, not quite enough to be seen, not quite enough to be ignored. It impaled him with sudden worry and a desperate look invaded his features. Was she mad at him? what did he do wrong?

 Andre glanced up, eyes resting on Aphel’s back as she turned to leave before flicking to Feit’s despair-filled features. He placed a reassuring hand on the elf’s shoulder, sensing his concern for his sister.

“She’s got a lot on her mind right now. Don’t go thinking it's all about you because it's not,” he said, trying his best to be comforting. He really wasn’t very good at this whole having friends thing.

“Thanks.” Feit bit his lip and fought back a sniffle. “I don’t really know how to act around her, I don’t know what to do or say, It’s different, something is-”

Suddenly the ship lurched and he stumbled into Andre who took a few steps back and hit the rail.

“Fenhedis!” Feit screamed as his stomach bottomed out.

“Maker’s bal- BEARD!” Andre coughed out, correcting himself as he held onto the small elf with one arm and the railing with another pulling them upstanding. A crack of lightning in the sky split open silently over the water drawing their attention far out to see. The thunder reached their ears an seconds later, Feit clinging to Andre tighter with fright. A sharp pain shot into Feit’s spine causing him to grunt but when his feet lifted off the surface of the deck his mouth opened silently.

Andre’s mind didn’t register what was going on until the two of them hit the water with a loud splash. He opened his mouth to scream at the sudden coldness but he found it filling up with water quickly instead. With one arm still securely wrapped around Feit’s waist, he flailed the other in an attempt to swim towards the surface. It felt like they weren’t moving anywhere, his heavy armour probably wasn’t helping their chances at all. He groaned inwardly at his stupidity. Who the heck wears heavy armour on a ship? The rope grazed his hand. Of course! With quick thinking, he grabbed the rope and hauled the two of them back up to the surface, coughing and spluttering as soon as they reached the air.

The water was ice cold and took Feit shocking minutes before his mind snapped back into his body to experience the stabbing pain all over his body. He coughed hard and wanted to paddle and splutter but he was held tight by Andre. They were being pulled along with the ship and the rope gave them a lifeline to safety.

“Andre,” Feit pushed the words from his trembling lips “I’ll climb up first. You need to take off your armour, it might be too heavy.”

Take off his armour? Andre felt the panic rise up from the pit of his stomach. He knew that Feit was right – this armour was too heavy but he needed it. There would be fighting later on a-and what if there were bears or rouge arrows or- he stopped himself from thinking these things. Now was not the time for another panic attack! He would find a way! His armour was going to stay firmly secured to his body, that was for sure!

 “I-I’m fine,” he stammered, cursing himself for his lack of conviction, “I can pull myself up, don’t worry.”

Feit looked to him with concern while the rain and sea spray whipped in their eyes, there wasn’t time to dwell on it, so he simply shouted an okay and began scaling up the rope. The cold wind on his wet skin and clothes made his trembling worse and he found himself frozen at times. He couldn’t die here, wouldn’t let himself die so pointlessly. Half way up he looked back down to check on Andre who was rhythmically grunting as he hauled up his weight and that of his waterlogged armour. Feit knew If he didn’t hurry to the top to help pull, Andre might not make it either. His hands slipped on the thick wet rope and a sharp panic dug into him making him scramble faster with desperation. As he neared the railings he looked up and saw a face, shadowed as it peered down at them.

“Halani! Help!” Feit called out to them.

“Feit!”

Aphel reached down and grabbed at his wrist and arm and began hauling the younger elf up. Despair. She could feel it, it was fading but it was there. This thing that warmed her and kept her from that vast cold darkness, it was right there and it was going to be taken away from her.

“You are so unlucky Feit. Ma isala Sathemah'ar, ma sasha rya'dinemah.”

Aphel felt a spark of warmth as she watched his face fill with confusion and utter despair, so she ripped his hands away and he fell straight down into the shattered waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vhen’suledin: Those who endure  
> Nae'suvenin: I wish it hadn't happened  
> Halani: Help  
> Ma isala Sathemah'ar, ma sasha rya'dinemah: If you wish to please me, then you alone must die.


	27. Take hold of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pieces   
> 5/10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, and enjoy these chapters.
> 
> ~Kim and Kill

Andre flinched as Feit plummeted past him. What the hell? Did he slip? He glanced up then down. Shit! The already present feeling of panic intensified to the point where he could feel an anxiety attack threatening to bubble to the surface. No! Not now! He needed to stay calm and just do this! His friend was going to die if he didn’t help him!

Removing one hand from the rope, he slowly allowed himself to slide down. When he neared the waters’ surface, he reached down to his belt and drew his hunting knife. He sucked in a deep breath to calm his nerves. Quickly, he cut the straps on the chest plate, one by one and felt utter despair rise when it came loose and sunk into the water. Next was the greaves. Then the vambraces and so on. When he was free of all the metal, he dropped down and kicked off the side of the ship, propelling himself down after Feit. He hoped beyond all hope he would reach him in time.

Aphel collapsed against the damp wood as the heat burned under her skin, drenched her senses and washed away reality around her. All she could feel were the waves of calm stroking that cold place growing in her heart. Then it hit her, hit her hard and fast as the cold began to grow again. I’ve killed him again. Her eyes flung open and she struggled to move but she realised soon that her limbs were not obeying her. Her breath trembled and her lungs felt dry as ice with shallow breaths. She wanted to cry and scream but her mind was faded and foggy as the cold darkness overwhelmed her senses. Her body retreated as the ship lurched and slunk out of the sight of Hark who had crawled up on deck to check the crows for sleepers and fill their bellies with the bread and wine in the sack held firmly between his teeth.

Climbing up the ropes, tucking his small fingers and limber toes into the knots and grooves, he made it up to the crow's nest to Selk, an old dwarf, and Festival the tallest elf Hark had ever seen, in no time. Selk laughed and ruffled Harks hair with his good hand and told the boy he was the most reliable man he knew. Festival gulped down her wine as fast as she could, dodging as Hark slapped at her hand to get her to slow down or else lose her night vision to blurry drunkenness. Captain won't be happy Hark signed to them in his own way and Festival laughed but slowed down anyway. Swinging downwards, Hark noticed a rope swinging taught over the side and hopped over to it to investigate. Looking over the side, he could see it went on beneath the frothy surface.

The water stung his eyes but that didn't slow Andre at all. The elf was so close now and he wouldn’t let himself lose sight of him, not after all they’d been through. Sure, the kid could be a little chatty and kind of annoyingly persistent but that was all part of his odd charm. Feit had managed to somehow worm his way into Andre's heart – a feat not easily done. He was one of only a few people the man could actually call friend, if he died now... no. He wouldn't allow it. Andre kicked harder and reached out, just able to grab the elf’s shirt. A heave later and Feit was tucked securely under his arm as he pulled them to the surface again via the rope.

Desperately gasping for air for the second time that night, Andre pulled Feit up so his head was completely clear of the water. The wind hit his skin and goose bumps grew instantly on all his exposed skin. Maker’s breath, the night air had quite the nip to it! He’d not noticed before with all the layers of his armour on. His heart ached and chest constricted at the thought of it laying on the bottom of the sea. What was he going to do now? There's no way he could go fish it out, nor could he get a new set. He shook his head. Not the time for that. More important things to think about.

“F-F-F-Feit! A-a-a-a-are you o-o-o-ok?” he stuttered through chattering teeth.

When Hark saw their heads break through the waves made by the ship’s wake his eyes widened horrifically. As fast as he could he stumbled back down the galley and slammed open the hatch door where the rest of the passengers and crew were still joking about drunkenly through all the Agreggio on board. Hark leapt down and ran to tug at Isabella’s belt. She smiled at him in her way but it soon turned dark as she read his signs and they rushed topside as Isabella shouted for Man overboard! Those not too drunk or ill to follow found their way up the steep steps.

“What’s going on?” Gwyneth begged The Iron bull who had his arm around to steady her.

“Someone’s fallen off the ship, gotta get to them fast or they’ll either drown or freeze to death,” he replied, hoisting her up the stairs to get her out quicker.

Gwyn swallowed hard, hoping this drowning person wasn’t who she thought it was.

The deck was filled quickly as they all followed Hark to the edge with the rope. Gwyn pushed herself to the front and peered over the edge. Andre was hauling Feit up the rope with him, not even a quarter way up. She felt her heart stop beating in her chest.

“I-It’s ‘Dre And Feit! W-We gotta-”

Bull pulled her away gently and stepped forward, grabbing a hold of the rope and pulling upward as hard as he could. With the help of every able bodied person on deck, the two men were pulled up successfully. Andre lifted Feit over the rail first before flopping over himself, sprawled out completely. Gwyn fell to her knees and shuffled over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder to access the damage. He slapped her hand away harshly, shook his head and pointed at Feit, urging her to go to him first. She frowned and opened her mouth to protest but Julien hurried over with a blanket.

“Go, I’ve got him,” he said with a worried expression as he attempted to haul their brother up to a sitting position, only to have his hands slapped away too.

Wordlessly, she scooted over to Feit who looked to be unconscious. She cursed inwardly, unsure of what to do exactly. Drowning wasn't exactly a thing they had to worry about in her Circle.

“Sorry Feit, you won’t like this but I have to…” she said, rolling him onto his side as she closed her eyes and mentally called out to her spirit friend for help.

Feit hadn’t known he’d been unconscious, but it was obvious when his eyes opened heavily to a waterfall of orange and red curls glowing in a halo above his head. Trapped in the forest of hair he smiled and didn’t even notice how terribly cold and painful his body felt until a warmth came in contact with his skin in the form of Gwyneth’s head pressed down listening to his heart and her hands on his chest. A slight race of panic at this feeling had him raising his hands to grip her wrists, intending to move them away from that place, but she was already done and looking up at his face as blankets were thrown over him.

“Hey there.” She said softly with a smile.

“Gwyn, we fell into the water.” he coughed and heaved a little but his body felt good. “I’m okay? what about Andre?” Feit asked her quietly until suddenly the image of his sister lurched to the front of his memory and burned his retinas “Apple? Where is she? Something’s wrong! I knew it, I knew it…”

“Calm down, Feit. It's ok. You're ok now... you almost drowned. You had so much water in your lungs I… my friend helped you,” she said as she averted eye contact for a moment, scared Feit would become distressed at that, “Andre’s fine, he was more worried about you than himself. He'll be ok, he's just a little cold.” she glanced back at her two brothers.

Julien was all a-panic. He was getting Dorian to heat the blankets up a little first with magic and then just piled them onto him. Andre didn’t look impressed as he tried to squirm away but failed to break free from the blanket burrito he found himself in. She giggled. Her older brother really hated to be doted on. She turned back to Feit with concern.

“As for Aphel, I haven’t seen her. Was she up here with you guys? Do you think she went over the edge too?”

Feit looked around them but couldn’t see Aphel on the deck anywhere. He wasn’t sure how this had happened let alone why. Still those words she had spoken were digging into his chest and no thoughts or words seemed good enough to pull him back to safety. You were bound to die alone. It wasn’t a curse. It was something else entirely.

“She has something inside her.”

“Inside her? Like worms?” The Iron bull suggested.

Feit shook his head and lowered his eyes as they all waited attentively for his answer. “Something bad…something magic. It's changed her.”

Isabella groaned at his words and Hark crossed his arms to show that he wasn’t afraid, while Fenris’ threw his arms up in anger.

“Something? Are you telling me that there is an abomination on this ship? What has magic touched that it doesn’t-”His sentence was cut off by a look from Isabella. “This is unacceptable, Bella!”

Feit jolted back at the shouting and opened his mouth to reply but realised he didn’t know what abomination meant.

 With an annoyed huff, Julien dumped the rest of the blankets on Andre and walked over, placing himself between the two elves with his arms crossed.

“Calm down! We'll solve nothing if we just stand around making assumptions and pointing fingers!” he snapped, his annoyance at Fenris' attitude was getting harder and harder to keep suppressed.

“I don’t think she's possessed. I should have been able to tell if she were. It’s something else…” Gwyn said slowly, as if she were still forming her thoughts into words. “I think I know what Feit means. The other day, the night before we reached Jader, she went all dead eyed and sparked an argument between Andre and Celeste. When they got particularly heated she looked… well almost euphoric.”

“That sounds familiar. She said some pretty hurtful things to me earlier that same day. It was so out of the blue, I didn’t think…” Julien trailed off, his thoughts returning to her harsh words only for a moment before continuing, "What does it mean? What could have done this?"

 Fenris looked at her over his shoulder and stepped back, pulling Hark to his hip. “Let’s find it then, whatever she is. I won’t tolerate a threat to my family.”

Gwyn didn’t like Fenris’ attitude but she didn’t say anything but with a sigh, she placed a hand on Feit’s shoulder.

“I know you’re worried about Aphel, but I don’t want you moving around until you’ve at least warmed up a little. You almost drowned. That’s not nothing, Feit. You can’t push yourself this soon…” she trailed off.

“I don’t think that’s going to stop him,” Julien said, walking up beside Gwyn, “This is his sister we’re talking about. He needs to be there when we find her.”

He draped a few warmed up blankets around the elf, essentially cocooning him. Andre clung tightly to his own blanket almost in compensate for his lost armour. He still wasn’t certain about exactly what had been wrong with Aphel and Feit didn’t say so, but he imagined it had something to do with the shadow he’d seen when Feit fell. The boy looked distraught and his young features so effortlessly showing emotion reminded him of Gwyneth. When they all split apart to search the ship, Andre pressed a palm to Feit’s shoulder, not quite ready to let him go.

* * *

Torun flicked the securing net of the cargo with his boot and spat cherry pits across the galley floor. He’d been sent down here to watch the goods and give water to the cats that scampered around crunching on the large as life ship rats who nibbling incessantly on the wood of the hull. It wasn’t exactly the most peaceful place with rough waves echoing through the compacted air, but at least down here nobody bothered him and he could even sneak at the goods that no one would miss. He was just glad he hadn’t been sent up the mast to the crow's nest. He hadn’t actually told anyone, but heights made him sicker than a dwarf on Friday and though he hadn’t planned to stay on the Daisy chain for long, he’d found it more pleasant that the idea of joining some city guard or selling himself in a red lantern bar. The Captain was fair and the awkward band of misfits, though many seemed worse for wear by past mistreatments, treated Torun like their own family. More than his own ever had. Spitting another cherry pit, he almost fell off his tower of packed crates when it bounced and left a red stain on Celeste’s forehead.

“You tit! What in Andraste’s name are you doing down here?” She barked

 Shit. He’d be caught red handed – literally. And of course Celeste Trevelyan was on this ship. Why wouldn’t she be? He cursed his terrible bad luck and jumped down off the crates.

 “Why are you here? I thought you said you were heading back to Skyhold or something?” he muttered, pulling a clean rag out of his breast pocket intending on helping her with the stain.

 She slapped his hand away angrily and wiped it off herself.

 “I said I was going back to Ostwick you daft- hey! I asked you first, you answer!” she snapped, placing her hands on her hips.

 Torun pouted “I am working here, if you must know! The Daisy chain is my home now.” tipping up his nose.

Celeste couldn’t help it. She let out one of the loudest, most gut-busting laughs she’d ever experienced. Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought. Torun. Working. The man she knew could barely tie his own shoelaces let alone doing anything that required any actual effort. She wiped the tears away.

 “Y-You- I-I’m sorry I just… I can’t imagine you swabbin’ decks,” she giggled and made the motions of mopping with her hands.

Torun’s brows knitted together as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He knew she’d never liked him much but did she have to remind him of his inadequacy so blatantly?

 “Yes very amusing. Spoilt little rich boy gets everything he wants in life.”

He leant back, leaning on a stack of boxes with his head propped in his hand. She couldn’t make him think anything about himself he hadn’t thought before, those thought where why he’d run away after all.

She allowed herself to giggle a moment longer before stifling it and sobering up. There was an odd expression on his face that gave her pause before more mocking words could leave her mouth. Usually a defiant quip would have been flung her way by now, perhaps he was genuine in his effort this time around?

 “Not going to even try to preserve your honour, Torun?” she said sarcastically, tilting back to rest against a crate.

“Honour?” Torun put on a sarcastic tone, raising his hands in questioning, “I can’t quite recall what that is, something important I suppose? Do nobles like us even have any of that or is it all in our heads along with the power and fame? 

“Whoa, what?” she raised her hands up in defence, genuinely confused at his sudden bitterness, “If you have something to say, just spit it out.”

“Why did you come here exactly? I’ve been trying my best to get away from all this…” He gestured to her vaguely, “But now you’re here and you’ve made it all bloody matter to me again.”

 He didn’t want to tell her, but Celeste Trevelyan had never felt like an obligation to Torun. It was everything else; the acting, the lies, the convoluted plans, the money, the endless manipulation to grab for more power or money that was never used for anything more valuable than to simply get more of it. All those jewels and feathers that made him feel like a marionette, strung up and set on display by his mother and sisters. He didn’t want any of that and they knew it, so he would just sit up straight and do what he was told. The one thing he actually felt happy about was his engagement to Celeste Trevelyan.

“I ran away didn’t I? So no, my Honour isn’t something of much import anymore is it?”

“You think I’m here specifically for you? To torment you? Please. You think far too highly of yourself,” She spat, her anger steadily raising with each new word that left his mouth, “I’m here because my family needs me, Torun. Because my honour won’t allow me to just abandon them because it’s convenient for me.”

“Convenient?” Torun pushed himself forward, “Because working to survive is so convenient? I’d rather be stuck on the top of the mast for a year than ever go back to that place! How could I be unhappy, they asked me. Who wouldn’t find it the epitome of delight being ignored day after day, forbidden to leave or work lest I be damaged or kidnapped? I’m a valuable commodity after all! Precious little Torun; just say the right things, nobody likes it when your difficult!”

He was almost shocked at his own words, he’d never actually told anyone why he left. In the beginning he thought he’d almost imagined how terrible his life at home had been, after all who could possibly feel so dead inside when they were an heir to a Bann? But hearing himself say it made it real, made it certain and not so distant. But he was gladly free from all that now. Maybe some things had stuck with him, and Celeste Trevelyan being here had brought it all back.

“Sorry for shouting.” Torun sighed and relaxed back down onto the crates.

To say she was shocked at his outburst would be a vast understatement. Holy shit. She felt like she’d just been slapped in the face with a fish. He’d never so much as even raised his voice around her; to see him loose himself in his anger and pain like that had stunned her into silence. Her mouth was agape for what seem like an eternity before she closed it and swallowed. Shit. She’d had no idea he’d been so miserable.

 “No. Don’t be. You have every right to be mad. My words were… sharper than I intended. I apologize.” She said, thinking of his confession for a moment before continuing on, “I had no idea you were so constrained. All the soirees… you were so smooth, I figured you were quite the socialite! I suppose they used them as an opportunity to parade you around like my Father did with me.”

 Obviously, Torun's parents weren’t as nice as they’d appeared to be. She sighed. It made sense she supposed. Be nice to the potential daughter-in-law to sucker her into the family. At least her Father had been straight with everyone about it and laid down exactly what was expected. At least she’d be allowed to leave. She suddenly gained more respect for Torun.

 “It was very brave of you. To be able to break away and forge your own life. Not many would have the guts to do something like that…”

Like her for example.

Torun looked at her for some kind of falsity but she was genuine, saying he was… brave?

“You… you thought I was smooth?”

Celeste felt her face flush. Trust him to pick out that bit specifically!

“Oh shush! You know very well you have a way with words, you didn’t need me to say it!” she barked hastily, looking away from him and crossing her arms. She glanced down at the floor and hoped he wasn’t still staring at her. A quick flick of her eyes confirmed he was and he had that dumb smirk on his face. “What?”

Smooth, way with words, is she hitting on me? Or just being nice? Torun decided that either way he wasn’t going to lose the opportunity to get closer to Celeste, for once he could do it as himself rather than the role he was meant to fill.

“So do you Celeste, no one could insult me more thoroughly than you do. How did you sharpen that devil’s tongue of yours?” He smarmed.

Celeste raised an eyebrow. Train that devil’s tongue of yours? What the heck was he on about?

 “I can’t say I set out to insult you, I guess it just comes naturally. I think we can agree that the both of us are sick of all the false compliments and ass kissing by now, yes?” she replied carefully.

“I couldn’t agree with you more.” Torun grinned and popped another cherry into his mouth. “I did like you, you know? I wasn’t pretending all the time. But I guess I’m not the type you like eh? Too human?” He’d seen her talking with an elf back in the town, “am I wrong?”

Celeste gaped like an idiot for a few moments before she let out a deep sigh.

“You… really? I mean, you would flirt with all the women at the parties, I just figured you only spoke to me like that because of our… betrothal,” she said the last word quietly, almost too afraid to even bring it up. She cleared her throat and continued, “And I don’t like her because she’s an elf, Torun. She’s… she’s different… She doesn’t treat me like I’m made of porcelain, you know? Aphel doesn’t care about titles or expectations, she just likes me for me.”

She played with the hem of her shirt. Hopefully he wouldn’t tease her too badly for it. They’d both been raised in privilege and she knew how people saw Elves – especially the Dalish.

He stifled a bout of laughter, she? So it was one of the other elves then, not the bald man. “Oh and you weren’t traipsing around, shagging anything that moved in the dark corners of those parties? Admit it, you were just as bad as I was, only far more successful.” He laughed. He admired her for being so much braver, than him. Back then he really had been all talk.

Celeste laughed heartily at that.

“Oh you give me far too much credit! I have the worst luck when it comes to that sort of stuff… something always goes wrong, trust me,” she giggled at the memories, “You remember that party with the Marquis and his daughter? I managed to get her alone in this small sunroom and she wouldn’t stop talking about the health benefits of eating grapefruit! When I finally got her down to her small clothes, somebody burst through the doors, shoving the two of us out the window and into the hedge below”

“So THAT’S why she blushed so much when I asked if she wanted a grapefruit punch! And I thought I was charming the pants off her. No prize for second it seems. Why don’t you ever let me win?” Torun pouted dramatically. “So what were you doing down here anyway? You never said.”

Celeste giggled for a little longer before she let it die on her lips. The silence seemed to go on forever before she let out an exhausted sigh.

“I came down here to be alone - to get away from everyone,” she looked down at her hands to avoid looking at him directly.

Honestly, she’d been thinking a lot the past few days. About what was left of her family and her life as she knew it. It was pretty overwhelming. She’d thought the dark quietness of the cargo hold would calm her but obviously that hadn’t gone according to plan. Torun had surprised her with his honesty and actually genuinely pleasant conversation. Fuck it. He’d opened up to her so why not?

“I’m feeling a little distressed. My father-” she felt her breath hitch and throat constrict at the thought. Maybe she still wasn’t ready to talk about it.

“Lord Trevelyan?” Torun wondered if Celeste was having as much family troubles as he had been, it Celeste felt her eyes sting at the thought but she forced them back down, taking in a few deep breaths and hiding her face in her hands. This was a mistake. She should be talking to her siblings about this, not him, but they’d all seemed to be pre-occupied with other things. When was the last time all four of them sat down and just talked to one another?

The stinging sensation in her eyes was getting worse and she felt a tear escape. No! She was not going to cry in front of Torun fucking Selbrech of all people! She swallowed hard and bit her lip. She wouldn’t!

“M-My Father is… terminally ill and I-” she couldn’t go on any further than that before her body shook with sobs.

She thought ‘terminally ill’ would be easier to understand than 'he’s turning into a giant red lyrium crystal’ but it hadn’t really lessened the blow. The truth was, either way, she was going to lose her father much sooner than she’d ever imagined. She’d never thought she would actually miss his almost constant nagging at her. Sure, he’d been a total hard ass but he’d meant well, always steered her the right way and been there for her. Now she’d have to carry them all, and their house, on her own. 

Torun felt his heart stop a beat as his mouth popped opened slightly, unsure what to say but needing to say something.

“Oh Maker, that is unexpected. Are you alright? How is your Mother?” He moved to pat her shoulder for comfort while hopelessly wondering how long it would take to get over his infatuation of her. “I’ve never known what it’s like to have a family member die, but if I was suddenly made a Bann I would shit myself so feel free to stay here at the bottom of the ship and cry all you like."

She wanted to laugh at his little jape but she just couldn’t bring herself to.

“I’m- I don’t know, Torun. I’ve been trying to stay positive and not think so much on it but it just hurts so bad,” she said, clutching at her chest subconsciously, “I’m sure the others feel the same but we’ve not been talking to one another a whole lot since it happened. I don’t think they’re coping too well either.”

She felt embarrassed. Utterly and completely mortified. Trust him to be present when she was feeling the most vulnerable she’d ever felt in her entire life! She took a moment to wipe the tears from her eyes and compose herself while she thought about how to tackle telling him about her mother.

“As for Mother, I can only assume she’s be pleased about it. The reason we’re heading back to Ostwick is to detain her... she’s a traitor,” she said, murmuring the last part. Somehow saying it out loud only cemented the fact. Her Mother was the cause of this entire mess.

Celeste needed to calm herself down if she was going to get out of this. She stopped the scratching and just punched upward, hoping to hit her attacker’s head. She missed. Plan B it is. She manoeuvred her head so she was in a position in which she could bite the arms that held her then sunk her teeth into the tender flesh, not enough to draw blood but enough for it to hurt.

“Cel… Don’t do that. You’re hurting me.” Aphel’s voice came through in a shudder that chilled the very air. Her hand raised and gripped Celeste’s jaw, turning her head roughly to look in her eyes.

“I love you Cel.”

“Maker’s balls, Aphel?” the red head squeaked out, surprise written on her features as she signalled to Torun not to worry, “Why did sneak up on me like that? You scared me half to death!”

With only a slight measure of hesitation she pulled the elven woman into an embrace, shivering as the frigid skin met her own. Aphel was so cold! It was like hugging an ice cube!

“What’s wrong? Are you sick, Aph?”

A hand gripped onto Celeste’s shoulder and pulled her back away from Aphel. She glanced backward. Torun? He had a stern expression on his face.

“She’s not right, Celeste…. I think it's best if you don’t indulge her,”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She chided “Aph, just tell me what’s wrong alright?”

The words of concern were like droplets of water running off a window pain as Aphel seemed to not even acknowledge them. In the darkness of the hold, Celeste swore Aphel’s dark skin looked pale and bloodless and even her vallaslin had blanched from their usual golden colour. She reached out her arms again, this time as though reaching for an embrace.

 “Come here Celeste. Let me hold you.”

Celeste didn’t even attempt to hide her confusion. Aphel called her by her full name – something the elf hadn’t done since… she flushed slightly at the memory of them together in that underground lake.

“Aphel, I don’t think hugging is going to help, we should get you to Gwyn. She’ll be able to heal you,” she said cautiously.

“Please, I need to tell you something… Andre is dead, he fell overboard and drowned. Everyone was looking for you, come here.”

Celeste felt as if time itself had stopped. What? Andre was dead? There was an extended moment of silence as the information sunk in. Dead. She barely even registered her knees hitting the floor or the sound of her own wailing. The crying resumed, harder and more intense that it had been before. Her brother… was dead? No. No no no no no no. No. He couldn’t be! He was the strongest of them all, he couldn’t have! NO! She couldn’t breathe! Her arms found themselves wrapped around her stomach as she lurched forward, resting her head on her knees as the sobs shook her body violently. He wasn’t dead, damn it! He wasn’t!

“No! No nonononono please maker no!” she chanted over and over to herself in between sobs.

Not even Torun’s concerned voice could tear her from the abyss she felt herself falling into. A world without Andre wasn’t a world she wanted to live in! She depended on him so much she… she’d taken him for granted this entire time and now she’d never get to show him how much she appreciated him. Hell, the last time they’d really spoken was the argument! She’d never gotten to apologize!

Torun watched the elf stalk towards Celeste and on instinct he grabbed a handful of cherries and threw them at her, couldn’t he have picked up something better? She only shuddered and snarled and Torun swore the air grew colder around them. Torun yanked at Celeste’s shoulders, gripping her shirt to drag her backwards as they stumbled through the towers of cargo.

 “Help!” he shouted at seemingly no one.

The elf dragged her sharpened gaze to Torun and bared her teeth.

”What do you think you’re doing? Do you really think she could love an empty piece of glass like you?”

He sucked in a short breath but coughed at the icy burn that hit his lungs. Could no one hear him?

* * *

The wind whipped at his ears harshly but Julien wasn’t going to give up on Aphel just yet. She had to be somewhere on this ship! He shuddered at the sensation of the sea-spray hitting his shirt, being drenched was not doing anything for his mood, that’s for sure. He glanced over at Dorian. He didn’t look too happy either. Instantly his ears picked up at the sound of shouting over the wind. As he stopped to listen closer he held up a hand, indicating for Dorian to stop as well.

 “I… I think I heard shouting below us?” he claimed, not too sure of himself.

 “Oohh no Amatus, don’t say such a thing. Being on the ship is bad enough, don’t make me go down into its belly.” Dorian groaned at the thought.

 Julien gave him a sympathetic look. He really was being a trooper. This storm was really not agreeing with him at all but he decided to help anyway. He took his hands into his own and kissed the knuckles before moving on to kiss his mouth tenderly.

 Pulling away with a small smile on his face, he gently cupped Dorian’s cold cheek with one hand and spoke reassuringly, “I won’t make you go down there but I have to check at least. You can stay up here if it makes you feel better. I’ll shout if I need help or anything.”

“No... Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” Dorian wanted to tell him how unprepared he was if something where to happen to him, but instead let the words remain unspoken and helped haul open the door to the lower levels and the two of them descended quickly.

 On the way down they ran into Varric and Fenris who had Hark flitting here and there behind them. Joining together the group followed the sounds that became only clearer. They stopped at the door of the cargo hold upon hearing the shouts more closely.

“That’s Thorn, our galley boy." Fenris glowed with intensity. "Is the other one of yours?"

Without replying Julien thrust open the door as swiftly as he could and slunk towards the noise. Some random human Julien had never seen before was dragging his sister around as they fought off an attacker… Aphel. Julien held his breath, wanting to run in and help, but still conscious of his injured shoulder and the swaying of the ship and the fact that this was Aphel. What could he do? Indecision rooted him in the shadows.

"If one of you distract that thing I can get in and stop her.” Fenris growled, lifting a glowing fist between them.

“No broody, no fisting. I can hit her with a sleep powder, then you lot grab Celeste and we can tie Aphel down somehow. How does that sound?” Varric told them while firmly lowering Fenris’ hand with his own.

 Julien gulped. So the fisting thing was legitimate then. Oh good.

“Second plan sounds better. I’ll be the distraction, Dorian you-” he stopped mid-sentence.

 This plan meant Dorian would be alone with Fenris. He really, really, really didn’t want to leave him here with the potentially crazy elf. His panic must have shown on his face because Dorian nodded and waved for him to hurry up and go. Julien took a breath and turned to go before quickly turning back and placing a quick kiss on his lover’s mouth.

“Aphel! There you are! We’ve been looking all over for you!” Julien shouted out as he descended the stairs quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou to the Elven project here on AO3 for the Elvhen language reference


	28. Fine is not reassuring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pieces  
> 6/10

Strong waves were buffeting the ship, testing its constitution like a swell of darkspawn incessantly breaking through the lines of a marching army. Julien’s voice broke through the storm in Aphel’s mind, lightning splitting the air followed by a thunderclap. For a moment Aphel’s grip on reality resurfaced, her memory and focus stabilised and warning her that all of this was wrong. “Julien?”

It vanished again just as quickly and all she could register in her thoughts was a fevered compulsion.

”Andaran atish’an Lord Herald” she whispered even though her words bore into their ears like spiders. She aimed a hand to point to his chest and smiled, this time talking to herself. “Right there. I can feel it.”

“It’s just Inquisitor, Aphel. I’m no herald…” Julien said, cautiously walking closer to her while keeping an eye on his sister who had collapsed in hysteria. He made eye contact with the man Thorn briefly, nodding for him to back away up the stairs, before his gaze returned to his sister. Her state of grief had him fretting that she would not be able to escape on her own if it became necessary. Without knowledge of himself, Julien advanced towards her.

_"No herald indeed."_ the elf chuckled low like a desert cat taunting its prey making Julien flinch back.  _"You are so wonderful Julien, so lovely for coming here. You’ve given me all this despair of yours. I’m very grateful."_

She moved languidly towards Julien, tracing her steps with care to bring her hands up his chest to rest on either side of his face. 

” _Look at you, the saviour of all of Thedas, yet you can’t even stand up to your own father. Do you think if you were better he might not have attacked you nor attempted to have Gwyneth be made tranquil? Such a shame.”_ Aphel looked down sadly as though seeing the scene she had laid bare.

She'd struck a tender spot for him. _If only you were better_. Those words rang throughout his mind, echoing around and bouncing off the walls of his consciousness. He couldn't let it affect him. If this _thing_ was feeding off despair then he would deprive it of its nourishment for as long as he could. He swallowed though his mouth was dry.

“You'll have to do worse than that, I've endured worse. Listen to me, Aphel. I know this isn't you speaking, you'd never say such horrible, hurtful things. I want to help you, please.” he told her, trying to send his words though to whatever part of her remained.

“ _Wouldn’t it be convenient to believe that? But what if this really is me? What then? It would mean there really is no hope, some people can’t be saved. You’ll kill me and then you’ll be even more of a murderer. But at least the world will be safe! Right?”_ Aphel shrugged.

Julien felt his eye twitch. Don't take the bait.

“You're getting really desperate now, aren't you? I don't believe you. You _aren't_ Aphel. Something has happened that's changed you. I have faith that we can save her – no one is beyond help.” he paused for a moment. “If you want to get to me, you'll have to work much harder. Go on. Do your worst!” he said, standing his ground.

He prayed Varric was almost in position so he just needed to keep her focused on him. He hoped he wasn't beating the hornet's nest too hard.

She seemed to retreat slightly at his words, drawing back into herself while letting her eyes flick over him as though searching. Then, as gradual and in time with the waves thrusting the hull, a deep unnerving laughter rang from within her chest.

_“Oh Julien, there is so much you don’t know. With Gwyneth gone, how long were you alone? Now with everything you’ve sacrificed you believe at last you have found someone who loves you, **amatus.**  How sweet, how heartbreaking. You really think someone like him could ever love you?”_

Julien raised his hands to gently encircle her wrists, pushing back against her and refusing to look away. “Of course he does. And I love him too.”

_"HE’S LEAVING YOU!"_ she shouted at him, suddenly angry, her hands gripped his collar now yet she hadn’t actually touched him with any force.

Julien wavered at that. It was stupid, he knew Dorian wouldn't leave him. They'd only just told each other their feelings. He wouldn't... would he? No! No he needed to stand strong against her.

“You're lying! H-he's not!” he said, voice cracking a little at the end.

He cursed himself internally for the stutter and just weak delivery of that line in general. Her words stung. He wanted nothing more than to just hit her for making him doubt but he wouldn't. She wasn't herself. The things she was saying weren’t her _._ Somehow she knew where he was most vulnerable. He was scared of Dorian leaving more than anything. He didn't want to be let go again – cast to the side like he was nothing. He shook his head, furious at himself for letting her in, feeding her- it. Think of something else, Julien. Think!

_"What do you think Dorian Pavus, Altus of Minrathous had desired more than anything in the world? You were just a distraction, an amusement, something he used to give himself the power he needs to go back to his true home, to **Tevinter.** It is just like before, what did the other one call you?  **My sweet** with a caressing hand. You’re nothing but a name.  **Trevelyan,**   **Herald, Inquisitor, Amatus.** ”_

Oh Maker no. Oh. Oh no. Julien felt himself slipping, his heart breaking. It wasn't true! It couldn't be! He... No! He refused to believe it! He.. He... He felt a sob escape him despite his willing himself to not be upset. She'd opened up an old wound, one that was only just beginning to heal. Thoughts of his former lover, Guard Captain Marlow, rushed to his mind. It had started off similar to how he and Dorian were now only... no! NO! Dorian had said he loved him! That wasn't a lie! He knew it! This false Aphel was lying to get to him! But there was that niggling doubt in the back of his mind - the paranoia that man had instilled within him so long ago. What if he was just an amusement? A tool? He could feel it slowly eating at him. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Varric really, really, _really_ needed to hurry up!

“That's... that's not true... he... he said he...” all his conviction seemed to have abandoned him. His words fell flat.

It was over then. She was on him, baring her teeth with her hands at his neck and she gasped at the heat coursing through her. It flowed into her and burned through that icy crevice carved deep in her chest. For a moment she opened her eyes and sobbed even as her fingers tightened, digging into his skin.

“Julien.”

Then she was torn apart from him, lighting sparks shattering against her back and dropping her unconscious to the floor.

"Kaffas! How long did you need for one bloody distraction!" Dorian spat out rightly and tumbled over to catch Julien’s coughing and spluttering weight

“I couldn't hit her without getting him too!” Varric explained with an annoyed tone, emerging from the shadows nearby.

Julien wrapped his arms weakly around Dorian and buried his head in his neck once he could breathe properly. He wept. Loudly. Much to his embarrassment. He _hurt._ He hurt so bad it was almost unbearable. The pain from all those years ago seared him from the inside, brought right to the forefront of his mind. He couldn't stop thinking about it. About _being_ used. This was no way for the Inquisitor to act. He needed to be strong, for everyone. For Dorian. But he couldn't stop himself.

“P-p-please tell me she w-w-was lying... p-please.. I... I can't...” he sobbed, sound muffled by the Tevinter's muscly shoulder.

"It’s a lie amatus, I love you, I don’t care about the stupid Inquisition, well, yes I care about saving the world, but you are my most precious Julien. Please don’t forget that." Dorian pet Julien’s mussed red hair and planted kisses across his face and embraced him tight enough as Julien fell apart in his arms.

Fenris stepped into the room with a dark expression despite the glowing lyrium as he glared down at Dorian. “So there is more than one snake in our midst then. Maleficar.”

"Broody, reign it in. He’s with me." Varric warned.

A silent glare was all he received in reply.

Julien forced himself to stop crying, just for a moment, and glanced up from his place. He was one hundred percent _done_ with all this bullshit today! He was _not_ in the mood for this. With one arm he tightened his grip on Dorian protectively and raised the other, making his marked hand crackle with green energy.

“You lay even a single _fucking_ breath on him and I'll open a rift in your chest. Got it? He's _not_ maleficarum. **Back. Off.”** he growled in an angry, low voice, shaking from his rage.

Dorian’s eyes widened but his mouth stayed shut firmly shut.  _Damn, that was hot._

Fenris took a step back, relenting. “Very well Inquisitor. But if he harms my family, I will not hesitate. No matter the cost.”

* * *

The group hauled Aphel’s body back to the captain’s quarters and were charged by Solas and Feit with innumerable questions of what and where and how. Celeste and Torun remained silent but kept pace and Gwyneth and the Iron bull followed in toe. At some point Hark felt the need to pinch at The Iron Bull’s leg until the man finally lifted him up onto a shoulder so the boy could inspect his horns and the multitude of spiderwebs clinging to the ceiling.

"You shot her!?" Solas fumed, waving his hands aggressively at Dorian. 

"She was killing Julien! Don’t you dare take that high and mighty attitude with me on this! I won’t hesitate to shove those blighted-"

"Enough! This isn’t the time you two." Julien interrupted them with whispered tone that emanated his leadership.

"Sis, wake up will you? I’m not mad, just wake up." Feit trembled beside the bed.

Gwyneth placed a hand gently on Feit's shoulder.

“She'll wake in her own time, Feit. She's ok. We have to figure out what's wrong with her... it's probably best if she's sleeping for this. We don't want her to hurt anyone else,” she reassured him.

She shuffled from foot to foot, slightly nervous. What was wrong with her? From everyone’s accounts it sounded like she was being possessed, that's for sure. But it didn't add up. Wouldn't the demon be fully in control all of the time? Aphel seemed to slip in and out of it without any cries for help. What was going on here? Her thoughts were interrupted as the Commander and Andre stepped into the room, intending to join the discussion. Before anything meaningful could be said, Celeste, shoving Cullen out of the way, ambushed Andre with a fierce hug.

“Sis? What?”

Moments passed before she could speak between shuddering breaths. “It’s nothing.”

Andre and Cullen swapped looks of confusion but Andre was quietly relieved to see she was no longer mad at him and tightened the embrace.

“Solas, do you have any ideas about what this is all about? Should I examine her? Magically,I mean,” Gwyn asked.

Solas looked at her to give his reply but found his mind void of one. Finding it hard to concentrate, he began pacing. 

"She… she wasn’t… like this…"  _where are the answers? What happened?_  Solas pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I noticed something strange when we were in the mountains, exactly what I can’t put into words. A feeling…”

"Like part of her isn’t there. Asleep." Cole hummed and swerved this way and that between those standing. "Not the same, too quiet, too sharp, quick to slice with her tongue."

"Yes. Thank you Cole." Solas sighed.

Gwyn nibbled her thumbnail absent minded as she thought. _Part of her isn't there? Asleep?_ That was... very cryptic. It wasn't much to go on, really. She turned to Aphel's sleeping form. What happened to you to cause that?

“Obviously whatever happened to her wasn't physical. Perhaps she was attacked mentally?” she hypothesised.

She was just grasping at straws really. There was no real proof, just a feeling she had... or was it? She closed her eyes. Yes. As she suspected. Her friend was here with them, listening in. Oh if only they could communicate properly, she could ask! It clearly knew something they didn't.

“The spirit perhaps…” Solas mumbled.

"Maybe that’s why her vallaslin are different." Feit mumbled, his face smothered into the bed clothes.

Gwyn raised a brow at that.

“What do you mean, Feit? Her... tattoos are different? How?” she asked, trying to gather as much information as possible.

Didn't Feit say he was magic sensitive when they first met? This was fascinating! She'd have to ask him about how he saw things exactly. Her curiosity was burning but that was for another time.

He turned his head and raised his eyes, realising everyone in the room, save for Hark who seemed to have found a fascination between his toes, was staring at him, waiting for his answer.

"Well, back at the Lord Inquisitor’s castle, I noticed they were different from… different from my Aphel’s. From what I remember of them."

"At Skyhold?" Celeste piped up.

"Y-yes." 

Solas moved next to him and traced the golden markings lightly with his fingertips. “They are made with the wearer’s blood using an old magic. They are not simply tattoos. They show the wearer’s devotion to the elvhen gods. As a side effect of the way they are made one can theoretically use them to assess the wearer’s spirit for deceit, illness, or perhaps possession. If I- I could-” Solas couldn’t finish his words. What if she  _was_ possessed? What good would it do to confirm? Would they decide to simply have her killed? But what other explanation was there?

“Really?” Celeste asked enthusiastically. “I’ve never read anything like that before, how did you learn something like that?”

Solas looked at her quizzically. “I spend most of my time in the fade-”

“This really isn’t the time Solas.” Dorian interrupted.

Gwyn frowned. She didn't know a whole lot about ancient elven magic. She'd only just started reading about it when the rebellion happened – barely even enough to note, really. However, if there was some sort of issue with her spirit could they not just...

“We could enter the Fade. Not physically of course, I mean through ritual similar to a mage’s harrowing. If there is a problem spiritually with her then could we not seek answers there? We have the lyrium. I'm sure the Templars could spare the amount we need. A couple of the rebel mages did come with us, I've talked with them – all ex-senior enchanters. They'd know what to do...” 

Fenris growled at her suggestion.

“J-just a thought,”

Cullen cleared his throat to interrupt Fenris who he recalled was quite vile even at the best of times. “While I don’t agree entirely, it is the best solution though very dangerous. Entering the fade is not a simple task and any demons attracted must be dealt with swiftly or you all face possession.”

"Oh lovely. Going into the fade  _and_  on a ship. This is a marvellous holiday.” Dorian commented sarcastically. “Well, who should go indeed? To help our poor Apple? Any volunteers?”

Gwyn raised a hand immediately. She would not squander this opportunity to possibly contact her friend.

“I'm going.” she said firmly.

Celeste wandered over and stood next to her sister, nodding her head and raising a hand. She was going to help anyway she could with Aphel. She wouldn't abandon her, not now. After a little internal deliberation, Julien raised his hand as well.

“I'll go as well. I can't leave you two to go in by yourselves... besides, this might come in handy” he said, waving the Anchor about. He laughed a little.

“No pun intended.”

With a groan Andre rolled his eyes and stepped forth, raising his hand slightly.

“If all of you are going then so am I.”

“No.” Julien snipped, scrunching his nose, “You don’t know anything about magic. You’d be better off here with the Templars”

“You don’t know anything about it either! You used to think rubbing Rashvine on your hands would give you magic!”

“Shut up Andre! I could feel a tingle!”

“It was the poison giving you hives!”

“Would you two give it a rest?” Celeste said, pinching at their ribs, “This is serious, arguing may only serve to make things more difficult since the thing we're dealing with is fuelled by negative emotions. Aren't you two smart enough to have worked that out yet? So Andre, you stay here and watch us with Cullen. We'll be fine and back before you know it.”

After the lyrium was retrieved and the mages assembled, the preparations began. Julien felt _exhausted_. This was too much emotional turmoil for one night. He hadn't let go of Dorian's hand in a while now – it kept him grounded, kept his thoughts away from that crippling despair that was threatening to creep back. Aphel had torn down his mental defences and attacked ruthlessly and he honestly hadn't felt this drained in a long, long time. But his friend needed his help and he wasn't one to abandon people in need.

“I hope this doesn't take too long... I could go for a hot bath right now,” he mumbled, squeezing Dorian's hand a little.

Dorian gave him a chaste kiss in return and settled his soft amber eyes on Julien, leaning into his ear. "I’ll be with you for as long as I can dear, I won’t say it will be easy, but just remember that it is all false, everything you see or hear. Find me or your sisters as soon as you can. I’ll keep you safe." 

Julien smiled weakly. At least now he had a plan, he supposed.

The mages indicated they were ready and those who were going stepped closer. Gwyn turned back to Bull and Feit, flashing them a smile.

“Catch you both on the flip side!” she said, almost a little too excited.

Then the mage’s chanting started up as the ritual began. Gwyn could feel the magic tickling through the air making the soft downy hairs on her arms stand on end – it was exhilarating! The last time she'd entered the fade like this it was during her own harrowing. She was so pumped it was almost impossible for her to stand still. It seemed an age for the vials of lyrium to be brought out and everyone stood, on bated breath for the ex-senior enchanters to make the signal. Just as the blue substance was uncorked and poured out, Julien heard a shout from far above.

“Rogue wave!”

The ship lurched to the side, an instant of weightlessness sending everyone flying off the ground only to toss them aside like a reckless child with last feast-day’s presents.

When Celeste opened her eyes she could feel the world swaying around her and in a panic, spread herself out to grip at the solid wood beneath her.

"Umm… Celeste?"

She opened her eyes and looked around carefully, seeing several unconscious bodies and focusing on Torun who was kneeling above her.

"Yes?" she replied carefully. Was this a demon? Or had Torun entered the fade as well?

"Are you alright? I got splashed with all this lyrium and I don’t feel well."

Celeste paused and looked around again. She was still on the ship, and the movement was the water’s swell tossing the boat. Or was it? It could still be the fade. Making her believe she’d never left would be a smart move for a hungry demon.

He continued when she didn’t reply. “What if I become deathly ill? Will you nurse me back to health? Your dear fiancé?” He grabbed her hands in his and clutched them to his chest.

“Deathly ill means death, idiot.” Celeste wrentched their hands apart and stood to survey the fallout. "What in Andraste’s lovely arse happened? I was meant to go!" She pulled herself up short. "Is everyone else alright?"

“What? But how do you know you’re not in the fade right now?” Torun stomped his foot. “I’m a desire demon!” He posed seductively.

She shuddered and shoved him enough to put him off balance. “No desire demon would pretend to be you. More like a despair demon.”

Torun gulped sheepishly and looked over his shoulder at those who appeared to be under. ”It seems that wave had terribly bad timing.”

"Indeed." stated Solas who held Aphel’s head carefully in his lap. "Gwyneth, Dorian and Julien succeeded in entering the fade. But a few others made the journey unexpectedly. Feit for one. Andre also."

Celeste sighed. "How could things have gone so terribly wrong?"

A warm weight on her shoulder arrived moments before Cullen’s reassuring voice in her ear. “We’ll watch them. They’re all capable people.”

"This is un-fucking-believable. Bella, we are never allowing mages on this ship again." Fenris growled.

"Fen, I swear to the maker I will give you the best head later if you just let it go for one second. I’ll even do that thing you like with the raspberries."  Isabella bated him and thankfully the elf complied with silent nod while the remainder of the room’s occupants were left frustratingly wondering what the hell the raspberry thing was.


	29. What are friends for? Saving your life probably

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pieces  
> 7/10

“First Enchanter, are you even listening to me?”

Gwyneth glanced up from the paperwork with a start. Her office was warmed and lit by the afternoon sun, tiny dust motes floating down from the high ceiling above and landing effortlessly on the towers of books and records surrounding her. Not that all of it was for business purposes, many of the books were ones she'd discovered hidden and abandoned in the tower's basements after being confiscated or banned and they contained a wide variety of unique subjects and frivolous fiction that could fill the many hours of her leisure.

"I think I was somewhere else for a second there." Her head felt fuzzy for some reason... she couldn't quite place it, perhaps all the papers had dragged noxious spores up from down below the earth. It was not a pleasant thought. The man standing in front of her wore the regalia of the Knight Commander, his tanned skin was a stark contrast against the polished silverite. It suited him well. Much better that the recruit armour of his youth.

“What were you saying, Ser Lyndon?” she said sheepishly, raising herself from the desk.

“The apprentices have thrown toilet paper over the statue of  Andraste again. Honestly, you must learn to control them better, this is the fifth time in the past two weeks!” he said before noting her scrunched brow, "Are you alright, Gwyn? You're looking a little peaked."

He looked quite adorable showing her that expression of his, it was the one she'd fallen for when she'd been an apprentice. She's been too shy to even speak to him for the longest time, it wasn't until recently that they'd even been alone together. No… that thought seemed foreign somehow. This felt wrong. Why did it feel wrong? She couldn't figure out why. And that constant thudding was driving her insane!

“I think so…" Gwyn mumbled and began pacing, an odd feeling of anxiety twisting in her gut. "I-it's just  a headache. It'll pass. Although, I wish whomever in causing that awful racket would stop already.” she said, irritated.

Lyndon raised a brow.

“Racket? You must be overly stressed. There's nothing there... it's just the two of us up here.” Lyndon stepped slowly around the desk, striding up to her while he removed his gauntlets, his voice giving the words a seductive lilt at the end. He placed a hand firmly on her hip and guided her to the desk, grinding his hips against hers slightly. A moan escaped her involuntarily. Oh?  He was acting very forward today. She liked that.

The thudding was getting louder however and kept her mind distracted despite the rather rousing situation. It sounded like it was coming from behind. She craned her neck to look but Lyndon took the moment of exposure as a invite to lick and kiss her desperately. She gasped.

“Never mind that Gwyn, let me help with your stress levels.” he purred.

There was definitely something there, on the other side of the window. She reached behind and managed to flick the latch, wrenching it opening it a little.

_It is a demon. It is attempting to trick you. Don't let it._

In an instant, her memories returned and her gaze snapped back to Lyndon in horror. A sick feeling washed over her and in a sudden jolt she shoved off of her, desperately rubbing away at the places he'd laid his hands in a vain attempt to cast off the crawling sensation.

“T-this isn't real! I liked you but... but you died!” she said, stumbling backward between the desk and the wall of bookshelves. Why hadn't she realized it earlier? The fade was certainly a tricky place, it could fog even the strongest memories burned into one's mind. The two of them had survived the rebellion together only for him to be cut down by bandits on their way to Nevarra. She remembered being absolutely terrified, exhausted and angry.Her instincts had taken over her and she'd immolated every last one of them for it, burning them so badly their charred corpses turned to ash in the wind. She'd remembered feeling righteous until she'd noted she'd depleted her mana in the process and thus did not have the capability to heal him - not that it would have done much good anyway.

_Let me help._

Lyndon scrunched his brows in confusion. "What are you talking about, Gwyn? I'm not dead, I'm right here in front of you!" he stepped closer, reaching a hand out toward her, "Why are you acting like this? Have I ever led you astray?"

She backed away further, eyes flickering about the room looking around desperately for a weapon.

_LET ME HELP. BREAK THE WINDOW._

The chair! She leaped at it, grasped it firmly and threw it at the glass. At the moment of contact the room filled with a brilliant light and Lyndon screeched, retreating backward. An armoured figure emerged from seemingly nowhere, the plate it wore shone so brightly it hurt to look directly at it. Gwyn squinted and brought her arm up to shield her eyes from it.

"Wha- Who are you?" she stammered. She had no idea what was even going on but this spirit's presence was warm, inviting even.   

_At last we can speak. I am Fortitude.  The spirit's voice resounded throughout her head and she knew immediately this was her spirit friend._

"It's you! You're really here! I'd hoped I'd be able to-"

"Get away from it Gwyn!" Lyndon yelled, drawing his sword, "It's a demon, trying to trick you with falsities! Stand aside and I will strike it down!"

"Oh give up already, demon. I've seen through your trick, you've tainted enough of his memory already" she snapped as she crossed her arms.

He looked desperate and hurt like she'd just kicked him in the stomach and she felt a sudden sting of sadness strike her right in the heart. The time for mourning him had long since passed but this just brought it all up again. She didn't want to even look at him anymore.

"Gwyn, please. Trust me! Templars are meant to protect, remember? Let me protect you!" he begged as she turned completely from him, the lump in her throat stealing away any further words she may have had. 

Fortitude stepped forth without hesitation and the faux Templar stumbled away from it, tripping over the now broken chair and landing unceremoniously on the ground with a thud.

"Gwyn!" he choked out in one last desperate attempt to get to her, "You're going to let me die again?"

She let out a small choked sob and kept her gaze averted.  Swinging down in one fell swoop of its halberd, Fortitude completely sundered the weaker demon, it form dissipating into dust as the weapon was returned to its upright position. It marched back to Gwyn's side and placed a gauntlet-clad hand reassuringly on her shoulder.

_It is gone._

"Thank you," was all she could manage to say for the moment, although she felt it hardly sufficed.

_Come, let's go help your elven friend._

* * *

Feit sprinted, his feet almost flying over the uneven ground while he felt his lungs and throat burning from trying to drag in more air. His body was aching all over, but there was no way he would stop. No way. 

"Keena!" the name came out as barely a whisper through his shallow breaths. "Don’t leave me behind!"

It was so typical. He always left Feit behind when he went out hunting. Feit knew he wasn't a good shot and he wasn't allowed his own bow yet, but he could watch at least, right? It all seemed different today however. Something wouldn’t let him stay still and running after the older boy was the only thing that would allow him to put his anxious heart to rest. If only he could see or hear him through the underbrush that towered over his small childish frame.

"Keena!" he repeated and spun on his heal as a voice finally replied to his side.

"Oh, here comes the clumsy len’alas. Come to ruin my day have you?" 

Tumbling forward beside Keena, Feit was stopped awkwardly by the boy's hand pressed against his forehead and scrunched his nose and eyes. Looking down with those coal black eyes, Keena gave him a quizzical expression with the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. 

"You're just too sneaky for Aphel aren't you? Figures. You realise we'll never nab anything if you're running around yelling my name though, right?"

Feit became speechless as he always did when faced with those eyes and completely forgot the reason he had come searching for him in the first place .He used them somehow to see into Feit's head, or it felt like it sometimes. If only he could see how much Feit liked him. “I-I-“

 Keena's eyes matched his hair, a darker black than any he'd seen before and not wavy or curly like most of the others but so straight and long that it fell as smoothly as water down his back from the string keeping it tied. Feit wished he had hair long and straight like that. Keena shook his head and chuckled playfully when Feit said nothing more and closed his mouth dumbly, embarrassed by his own gracelessness.

“Hello? Are you in this world?" he tapped on Feit's head, "since you're here, and all the animals have been frightened away, take my bow and try to shoot down an Apple. It will help you focus some.” he held out the black ash-wood bow and pointed to a tree not too far away.

"What? Can I?" Feit said, smiling energetically, then at Keena’s raised eyebrows he blushed and notched the arrows. How did he always do that? Know exactly what to say, exactly how to help. Keena didn’t try to be gentle to save face, he was honest and instinctive and Feit adored him.

"Try again." Keena circled Feit who’s arrow fell short.

By the sixth arrow, Feit was feeling less calm than ever at the thought of losing all Keena’s arrows but when he glanced back Keena nodded in that way. 

"That’s no good. Keep trying, don’t worry about the arrows."

How does he do that.

When the tenth arrow hit the mark, Feit shouted and leapt out to snatch his quarry, waving his sore arms with relief.

"You did it. Now you can be my hunting partner, and I’ll have our crafter make you a bow."

Feit gasped. “But! I’m only seven! I’m not allowed…”

Keena shook his head, his dark fringe like feathers about his face. “Trust me.”

"Okay." Feit smiled harder than he ever had in his life.

* * *

After calming down and burying the sorrow within herself once more, Gwyn found herself following her friend through the twisted, floating islands of the fade. Ordinarily in a situation like this she would be gaping at all the wonders around but her eyes focused only on the suit of walking armour in front of her. What did Fortitude even look like under all of that? Did they have a body? Or were they just smoke? Nothing? She was still wrapping her head around the fact they could actually speak to one another. Being able to actually see them here, to be able to reach out and 'touch' them, was beyond her greatest expectations.

“How did you know-”

_You and your friends were in trouble? We are connected, you and I. Our link was... obscured somewhat but I felt you as soon as you came here. Feit has a connection to this world I cannot explain - we must get to him before he is taken._

She shivered. When Fortitude spoke, it was like her thoughts buzzed. The sensation was completely unique and she adored it, entirely. It took a moment for her to register what they'd actually said.

"Feit? Feit's here?! How- Why is he here? He wasn't supposed to come…" she frowned before slapping her own forehead in frustration, "The wave that hit the ship! It must have knocked him in here with us."

_Precisely. Come, we must hurry. He is not good. Fortitude paused as they came to an upside down door and stood to the side before continuing Let your thoughts be of him and step through. I will be right behind you. Do not fear, we cannot be separated._

She drew in a deep breath and did as she was told. They stepped through into... a forest? Of course! Feit must be dreaming of home.

_Call out to him. He may be able to hear you._

“Feit! Feit, where are you?”

* * *

 A voice bounced through his ears, making Feit look about them curiously. “Who was that? I think someone is calling me.” 

Keena side eyed him but continued walking. “There’s no one but us Feit. Perhaps a ghost is trying to tempt you?”

"Ghost?" Feit quickened his step and pressed himself to Keena’s back. 

"It’s alright. Like Keeper said, ghosts only bother shemlen. It’s the demons you need to watch out for."

"D-demons?" Feit squawked.

Keena snickered and grabbed Feit’s hand so they walked side by side.

"I’ll look after you Feit, Just you and me. We’ll go to the nearest villiage and hide out till the clan leaves. Then we’ll run off together and have an adventure!"

Feit’s eyes widened, an adventure? Was he for real? But what about…

"What about Apple? Hahren said shems don’t like us. She said they tried to kill us and kicked us out of the days."

"Dales, Feit. The Dales. And since when has Aphel cared about you? She's always so mean, like throwing you off the boat and saying horrible things. Are you sure she's your sister?"

“Yeah… I don’t think it was really her, or at least I think I did something wrong to make her mad.” Feit blushed. Apple was always a little fierce and it was hard to tell what she was really thinking sometimes, but something wasn't right when she'd done that… she'd said such strange things and then thrown him into the water… Andre was still climbing the rope with all of his armour on…

His thoughts were interrupted when Keena gripped Feit’s shoulders, levelling their eyes. “Listen to me Feit. Your sister doesn’t love you. I love you. No one but be. You don’t need anyone else to look after you and we’ll go and travel the world together without the stupid clan and without horrible sisters.”

"You love me?” he gasped, his mouth a perfect O as the words stood out like glimmering runes. He said he loves me? he loves me, he loves me! “You really mean it?”

Keena’s black eyes glimmered like obsidian as he drew in Feit’s joy and unabashed hope. “Yes my dear Feit. How could I love anyone but you?”

As they wandered through the forest, Gwyn called out to Feit loudly. It was no use. He wasn't responding. Where was he? Fortitude stopped suddenly and stood completely still. She wished they weren't wearing a helmet so she could see their face. Assuming they had a face. She shook the questions from her head and opened her mouth but Fortitude spoke before the words left.

He is over that way. I can sense him... the demon also. We may have to fight it ourselves if he won't let go.

Gwyn felt the panic rise. Fight it? The demon? She didn't have her staff or spear or anything! She could use magic without them, sure, but it was unfocused – all over the place. Fortitude placed a gauntleted hand on her shoulder as they guided her towards a clearing up ahead.

You are in the Fade. You are never unarmed. Visualize and focus when you need it and it will materialize. You are stronger than you believe.

She smiled at that. Before long they reached their destination. There he was! He was quite a bit… smaller. He was dreaming of himself as a child? Obviously that was the demon standing next to him.

“Feit! Oh there you are! We've been looking all over for you! Come, we've gotta go help Aphel, remember?”

Her voice rang clear this time through the fog of Feit's awareness, making him stop and turn back. He looked up at the person calling to him with curiosity; a shemlen and a suit of armour?

“Who are you?” He asked.

"Feit! Don’t talk to them. They want to hurt you." Keena growled and yanked Feit’s arm hard.

Feit tripped backwards, landing on his bottom. “Ow-okay. Sorry.” 

_He doesn't recognize you. The demon is obscuring his mind – he is not this young in your world is he? Talk to him like you would a child._

Gwyn nodded. That made sense, she supposed. Softening her features, she leaned forward to rest her hands on her knees.

“We're not here to hurt you, Feit. My name is Gwyneth and this is... Kyle.”

_I am not Kyle._

She stifled a laugh at his blunt rejection and cleared her throat before continuing, “Aphel sent us to get you. She needs your help,”

"Apple said so?" He jumped to his feet and made to run to her when Keena pulled him back again, this time wrapping his arms tightly around Feit’s chest to bind him. 

"Stay back shem! We’re not afraid of you." Keena snarled at Gwyneth and Kyle.

“She's very sick, Feit. Bed-ridden. We need you to help us find out way out of this forest to get what she needs to get better.” Gwyn said gently.

Hopefully that was the right tactic. Get out of the forest. That meant they'd have to leave this dream, right? That demon was not looking happy though and its grip was tight around Feit. She wanted to throw a fireball at it, get it off him but that would cause more problems than it'd solve. Feit needed to get clear on his own.

"But… wait, Keena, she's saying Apple is sick, what if something bad happens? I got to go see her!"

Keena’s grip had Feit stuck to the older boy’s body so he wriggled, attempting to pry himself free.

"What are you saying Feit? I thought you trusted me? I thought you loved me? Your sister doesn’t, they don’t, no one but me."

Eyes clenched tightly shut, Feit struggled to breathe under the pressure. This can't be right, I'm sure Apple loves me, and Keenaslahnelan wouldn't really say those thing, would he?  

"Yes that’s right little Feit, you’re all alone. Stay with me, with your Keena, I’ll love you forever."

The words now only fuelled his doubt and many thoughts and memories ran in and out of his head, running over like rain filling the dips in a stone. Apple was back with the clan, Feit ran after Keena into the forest, running until he couldn't run anymore. Up to the cliff that hung out over the shallow river below. Then the bow in his hand, the one he'd found, like he found the boy's body in the marshy edges… skin all swollen and nibbled, black eyes eaten out of his skull.

The memory shocked Feit and suddenly the world around them transformed. Freezing muddied water shone in the silvery moonlight and soaked through to their skin. Keena was still bound to Feit’s body but his face and body were pale and waterlogged. From his mouth and eye-socket’s dripped the black sludge of the river-bed. 

”You’ve forgotten me Feit, why are you leaving me?” The thing gurgled as it’s thick fingers trapped Feit’s throat even as its flesh fell from the bones.

"I never forgot, I can’t forget." Feit whispered almost to himself, too afraid to look back and see.

Gwyn stepped forward, pulling herself through the sludge to get to her friend, “Feit! It's a demon! Don't listen to it!” 

The filth felt like it was seeping into her very bones, making her feel disgusting and sickly. She ignored it. With both hands she attempted to pry the rotting, skeletal fingers from his neck.

“I'm here Feit! Stay calm, I'll protect you!” she reassured him as she continued her struggle.

“Back off, Witch! This one is mine!” it gurgled, spitting sludge at the two of them.

 Feit felt hopeless under the corpse’s grip even as he watched Gwyn struggle desperately to free him, her fingernails accidentally scratching his face in the fray. He was trembling terribly and his limbs felt utterly weak. 

"Stop this, please." Feit spoke at last. "You need to return Keena, go back to where you belong. You’re in the beyond now."

The corpse faltered at that as though it somehow had been taken off guard.

”What do you mean…”

"Ir then." Feit’s body changed then, becoming older, taller, and stronger as he lifted the demon from him and with one arm and threw it far from himself. He lifted Gwyn out of the muck and the three of them ran together, not sure where they were going but determined to get away.

”Ma emma harel! Ar tu na’din!” It screamed but as they ran the water drained from around their thighs and ankles, dragging the demon into a whirling pool of black frothing water with enough force to squash it down below the earth.

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Gwyn." Feit sobbed when their feet touched firm ground and he covered his face with his hands

Gwyn grabbed his hands and pulled them gently from his face, letting them go and wiping all the tears away. Her heart ached for him, his pained expression told her all she needed to know regarding his feelings on what had transpired. He was hurting, bad. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him fiercely, stroking his hair gently as he wept into her shoulder.

“Shhh. Don't be sorry, Feit. Its ok, let it out,” she cooed gently, “Demons get everyone here – they know your deepest desires and greatest fears. They try to make you happy and ruin it if you don't do as they ask, make you really hurt for it. You are not at fault – do not be sorry. I won't let them take you again.”

 When his tears dried up, Feit looked at Gwyneth and Kyle as though only just realising what she had said.

"Demons? What do you mean? Are we in the beyond? how did I get here? It feels strange here Gwyn, I don’t feel right."

 Shooting a glance at Fortitude, Gwyn let her worry be in evidence. This was a very delicate situation and it needed to be handled carefully. Feit's aversion to magic and spirits probably extended to the Fade itself. She didn't want to shock him so she stood there for a moment to gather her thoughts.

“Feit, we're-”

_You are in the Fade. The ritual was interrupted from what I can gather and it flung you in as well._

Gwyn grimaced. Well... shit. That solved the issue of breaking 'Kyle's' true nature to him.

 Feit shrank back a little but nodded in acknowledgement of their answer. “I- that makes sense. To Dalish it's the beyond, but I think that meaning is a little different to when you say the fade… It feels so… alive, like the air is- crawling across my skin.” 

Though his mouth had paused, his sentence continued as a disembodied voice which carried through their minds, causing Feit to start at the shock of it. He braced himself but his body felt overly sensitive and his mind hyper-aware. 

"Please, I need to get out of here Gwyn. I’m scared."

  _This one holds power here, although you say he is not a mage. Interesting._

Gwyn smiled at Feit gently and took his hand in hers, leading them back the way they came. She was insanely curious about the extent and exact nature of his abilities but she kept her mouth shut. Now was not an appropriate time. He was absolutely terrified and she feared prodding him about it would only increase his stress levels. They wandered for what seemed like forever until Gwyn gave up.

“Fort', where is the exit?” she groaned, getting tired of seeing the same boring landscape over and over.

Fortitude stopped at did that focusing thing they did. An arm was raised to their left.

_That way._

Sure enough they eventually came to an archway that shimmered with an otherworldly glow. She gripped Feit's hand tighter and walked through it with him, hoping the comfort of her touch would be enough to see him through.


	30. I've got plenty of mental scars baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pieces  
> 8/10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT THIRTY CHAPTERS!!!!  
> Thank you al for your support and we hope to go over previous chapters and refine this work before it is completed. This is longer than the prisoner of azkaban! Lots of love and hugs from Kimakaze and Killjoys. ( ; 3 ;)

"Stay with me Dor…" Julien whined adorably, with his hands clasped on Dorian's as they sat between Cassandra and Varric. The two of them continued to argue across them despite being told to shut-the-hell-up by Sera. Dorian supposed the inebriation made them even less amenable than usual not to mention they seemed to get something out of thrashing each other with words. Cassandra was looking much closer to using her fists however which Cullen was obviously sensing as he stumbled from his chair to put a warning hand on Cassandra's shoulder.

"I'm not going anywhere," Dorian finally replied to Julien's odd request which didn't really make sense since neither of them were actually moving anywhere.

"No- not right now. I mean…" Julien swamped against Dorian's shoulder to lean in close to his ear, "tonight."

"Now is tonight." Dorian rebutted playfully.

A hand swatted at him with less force than a butterfly's wing. "You know what I mean you… poodle. Tonight-tonight. For bedding. In sleep bed… Sleeping… in bed."

Laughter bubbled and Dorian was bent over in fits of laughter. Julien joined him, infected by the velvety sound, and even Varric was distracted by the sound.

"Why, you know that can't happen. It's terrible luck."

"Luck schmuck!" Julien leant back to level his sights on the Tevinter, almost fell from his chair until he gripped tightly to Dorian's shirt. "Don't I get to do what I want with my own husband?"

He loved the way Julien said that, all slurred and pitiful. It tugged at his mouth and his heart. Not to mention his cock.

"We're not married yet. That's the reason we can't stay together tonight." Dorian smirked and watched Julien's expression become even more sappy. "Don't you want to spend your last night as a free man on your own?"

“Nooooooo,” he whined, nuzzling his flushed face into Dorian’s shoulder, “I never want to spend another evening on my own, not when the alternative is soooo much more appealing. Don't you feel the same way?” He began to squirm, rubbing his face on Dorian and making little cute noises in a weak attempt to convince him.

“Awwww look at his Inquisitiveness! Completely shit-faced, in'e?” Sera laughed, flicking a Wicked Grace card at him and with a wink in Dorian's direction continued, "Perfect time to take advantage of his fragile state." Julien lifted his head with a weak glare and poked his tongue out at her to which she responded with a slew of lewd gestures.

"Really, Julien?" Lord Trevelyan said, his deadpan tone was betrayed by the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as he sipped from his glass, “You think he’d have matured at least a little by now.”

“To be fair, Miss Sera did start it,” Lady Trevelyan said with a smile, placing a hand gently on her husband’s arm, “Why don't you just walk my son back to his room, Dorian? I don't think he'd be able to make it on his own.”

The decision to give in was made with no more protests and gradually the two of them walked one another to some corner of the estate. The room they found themselves in was grand and decked with the most expensive and luxurious drapery which complemented both Dorian's tastes and the light of the fireplace. Surprisingly, Julien gracefully leapt from Dorian's arms to land within the pile of furs covering the settee and reached to a nearby bowl of fruit to pop a blueberry into his mouth.

"Let's do it!" Julien giggled and stretched seductively.

"While very tempting, I must decline your offer tonight, Amatus."

Julien huffed in annoyance, obviously choosing not accept the refusal without a fight. He rose and wrapped one arm around Dorian’s neck then almost violently tore open his own shirt with the other, the buttons making jangling sounds as they scattered all over the floor. He did not even glance at them, instead his emerald eyes were fixated on Dorian, completely captivated, as if he were a work of art. With an impish grin, the rogue licked his lips and covered Dorian’s mouth with his own, his tongue boldly sweeping across Dorian’s with fervour. The hand resting upon Dorian’s shoulder shifted to his nape and grasped a fistful of the hair to pull him in closer, if it were even possible. After what seemed like the longest time, the rogue pulled away slightly with a satisfied hum, finally letting the mage breathe. 

“You sure about that, Mon Chèr?” he whispered huskily, his lips still close enough to brush up against Dorian’s.

Dorian felt like his heart could burst. So comfortable and warm he felt with his gorgeous soon-to-be-husband here tucked against him. It was practically perfect.

"Julien, please. Not tonight. This is… special. You are making it very difficult to keep saying no." he joked but put his hand between them.

"That is good to hear, since I really can't take no for an answer. I need you so terribly, Dor." Julien captured Dorian's palm to press it against his bare chest while the other hand roamed to grope Dorian over his pants.

"You focused on the wrong part of that sentence," Dorian laughed, swatting playfully at Julien's chest and sliding from his grip.  He meandered across the room to the bottle of red wine sitting on the table beside the bed, chilling it instantly in his hands as he checked the label.

"8:25 Blessed, a good vintage" he commented casually. Absentmindedly he tried to recall what he'd learnt of the events during the Blessed Age around that time and decided what he did know was most likely quite biased due to either the Tevinter scholar system or his own utter disinterest at the time.

"And you are focusing on utterly the wrong things, Pavus." Julien grumbled from behind him.

Looking about for a glass to fill, he turned to see that in the moment he had his back turned, Julien had stripped bare and lain across the furs on his stomach, his legs parted slightly in an obvious display to get the best reaction from Dorian.  Which was, to Dorian's chagrin, positively hitting the bullseye.

"Pavus is it? Are you grounding me, Mother?" he jested, tearing his eyes away from Julien's inviting figure. An almost desperate part of him hoped mentioning his mother would be as much of a turn off for Julien as it was for himself. Placing the bottle of wine back on the table he pondered Julien's behaviour tonight; his unrelenting persistence and surprisingly forward attempts at seduction. Julien was never one to take liberties, not even those freely given, surprisingly preferring to be lead than to lead, so It was clear to Dorian now that he must have consumed far more alcohol than he'd thought to be acting this pushy. His memories of the night were little more than a blur however.

"Mother? No, maker no. I'll let you call me daddy though."

"What?" Dorian choked on his own saliva.

A smirk and another blueberry and Julien turned to look back over his shoulder. "Or would you prefer Alexius? Come on, I heard the stories. I know about how you two met, Dor has a little kink for older men, am I wrong?"

To say he was a little stunned would have been an vast understatement. Dorian stood motionless, mouth agape, while his brain tried to comprehend what Julien had just said.

"What a preposterous suggestion! What kind of stories have you been hearing?"

Adjusting his posture again, Julien rest on his side with his abdomen frustratingly covered by a cushion he had been lying on. "Don't make me torture the truth out of you, I'll soon have your oath to be faithful."  Adding a smile and waving a finger as though he were chiding a naughty child. "Be honest with me, babe. Tell me there is no way for me to tempt you into my bed tonight if you can."

The words coming out of Julien's mouth just felt wrong, even if he was completely plastered. A growing sense of unease put Dorian on edge as he glanced about quickly, completely desperate now for any sort of distraction or excuse to change the topic. Now he was looking at it properly, the room was a might more featureless than Julien's typical decoration - it was completely spotless in fact. Where were the usual piles of clothes? The stacks upon stacks of incomplete paper work? The random books strewn about? Even Julien's prized potted plants were absent.

He turned back to the man still awaiting his reply "Where are all of your things, Julien?"

Raising his hands in question, Julien sighed and let his head roll back with impatience. "You're trying to change the subject. There's no shame in it Dorian, everyone has their little desires."

Again some incessant notion of both foreign-ness and familiarity warred in Dorian's gut, causing a deep memory to surface. A memory of himself as a boy, undergoing his harrowing three years earlier than was expected and coming out with flying colours.

"Did you get rid of those filthy plants at last? I hated that Witherstalk, always overgrowing and making a mess."

Julien chuckled and stretched out once more, his muscled arms meeting behind his head to fully expose his chest and stomach. It had Dorian shuddering despite himself.

"Yes, of course I did. I thought about it and realised how much you mean to me, I won't have my own husband living in squalor."

Letting out a slight chuckle, Dorian leant against one of the bed-posts with a look of amusement growing as he inspected every inch of the body laid bare before him in the warm comfort of the room.

"I am surprised at the sentiment," Dorian said with a smile and a long sigh, "you've captured me my dear, how can I continue to say no when such a glowing beauty is presented to me? Show me that perfect arse of yours again and I'll be right with you. And don't eat all of those by yourself!"

With a little squeal of glee, Julien did as he was told and shifted onto his stomach eagerly while Dorian quickly palmed a nearby letter opener and made his way over to him, cursing himself inwardly for not realising earlier. In one smooth motion, he placed a knee firmly on Julien's back, one hand pulling back the demon's head as he jabbed the blade deeply into the side of its throat. The demon let out a startled, gurgling cry and squirmed desperately as Dorian attempted to work the blade outward to slice through the trachea and blood vessels, only to have it lodged in the gore, much to his frustration.

"H-how?" It spluttered desperately, trembling from the shock.

"Julien's never been able to successfully grow Witherstalk. Amateur." Dorian scoffed and worked the blade free, ending the dream.

 

* * *

 

The loud rattling of the windows and the rain pelting down hard against the masonry outside was what finally roused Julien from his sleep. It was a terribly frigid night, the various wall hangings covering the stone walls, the hand embroidered rugs that were thrown haphazardly across the vast flag-stone floor and even the red-hot flames of the hearth did little to shake the cold from his bones.

With a loud groan he rose from the small cot tucked in the back of the room and rubbed at his sore shoulder that was surely swollen to high heaven by now. His memory of what happened to it was a little hazy, though he didn’t waste too much time pondering why that was. From just out of his line of sight came the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and heavy boots thumping quickly over as a familiar head poked out from around the side of the large, hefty looking bookcase. Julien took a moment to wipe the sleep from his bleary eyes and then flashed the man he adored a dopey lop-sided smile.

“Julien, you’re finally awake!” he said, his deep, honeyed voice having a distinct sound of relief seeping from it.

Julien sighed in content and closed his eyes as he listened to him walk over and place a warm hand on each shoulder comfortingly. “You’re ok now. You’re safe inside and out of that storm, though next time maybe don’t try walking across the wet roof tiles.”

And then there was that deep, rumbling, warm laugh that set Julien’s heart racing a million beats a second. That laugh that reminded him just how completely smitten he was. That laugh that made him feel like he was safe, that he needn’t worry about the harshness of the storm blowing outside or anything else for that matter. Oddly, there was a small part of him, deep down that was screaming, begging himself to get up and leave. He shrugged it off – must have been leftover feelings from that horrible nightmare he’d just woken from. He'd dreamt of being a leader of some sort with the weight of the world on his shoulders. The details were blurry but he could still feel the choking responsibility he knew he'd never be able to handle if it were real.

He was shaken from his reverie by rough lips that pressed themselves hungrily against his own, the force of it almost pushing him flat onto his back.  _Whoa_. He would never tire of just how intense their little trysts could be. Julien’s hand found its way to the other’s face, rough stubble scratching the pads of his thumbs as he pulled him closer, deeper. When they broke apart that laugh sounded out once more, this time in this little knowing way that had Julien feel as if his legs had turned to jelly.

“So thirsty for it, aren’t you my sweet?” he paused for a moment as Julien licked his lips and nodded his head, “Good. But not so fast, keep those eyes closed – I have a surprise for you.”

Julien did as he was told and let himself be led a few steps out before he was allowed to open his eyes. He let out a little gasp as he saw the neat desk before him. Desk? That meant-

“Ta-da! That right, it’s a name plate! You look surprised, Jules,” the man laughed, backing away and waving his arms about, motioning to the entire room, “You helped me with this: my new office. That’s right  _my_ office! I got the promotion! You know what that means?”

Julien felt his mouth open and close repeatedly, the information was just not absorbing. It had actually worked? All of that campaigning and getting all those seemingly pointless forms signed had actually paid off? To say he was absolutely relieved would not even begin to describe how elated he was feeling right now. The man glided back to Julien, placing a hand on either side of his face and pulling him in for another kiss. When they parted, Julien was completely speechless. This… this was his new office? Well, it was certainly a better place to meet than the Drowning Nymph’s dingy wine cellar. 

'Marlow…” he trailed off looking into the older man's eyes with adoration.

“That’s Guard Captain Marlow now,” he replied with a wink.

Julien's smile widened as he finally took the chance to look at him properly. He looked absolutely gorgeous in his new, freshly pressed by the look of it, uniform. Not to say he didn’t normally look gorgeous. Those brilliant chocolate curls that framed his jaw so perfectly was the first thing that had drawn Julien to him. Not to mention his surprisingly light creamy coloured eyes that always had people turning to look twice and that thin, regal nose quite in opposition to Julien’s with its button end that he at times became overly conscious of.

"You- you’re happy with it?" Julien asked, holding back as to not annoy the man with his enthusiasm.

“Happy with it? I am ecstatic! I'm finally where I deserve to be!” he said, hoisting Julien up by the waist and spinning him around as though he weighed nothing.

A joyous laugh easily escaped Julien’s lips as his world spun around him. He felt so light and free and happy – like he hadn’t a care in the world. They shared another kiss as Marlow let him down - only to push him roughly up against the desk. Julien winced as his tailbone collided with it at an awkward angle, although he didn’t say anything – he didn’t want to kill the mood after all. Marlow didn't seem to notice in any case, he was far too busy with Julien's hands. One was being feverishly kissed while the other was shoved south between the two of them.

“Don't you think I deserve a celebratory gift? I have a little time before I'm needed elsewhere...” he said in between smooches.

Something about his tone flicked a switch in Julien’s head and he suddenly felt uncomfortable. This... this didn't feel right. He felt like he was forgetting something... someone? He was happy to see Marlow, of course, something was off about this. The two of them jumped at the sound of knocking on the door and the rattling of the handle. Julien could swear he heard a woman's voice.

“Oh for fuck sake! I told them I wasn’t to be interrupted…” Marlow grumbled mostly to himself, “Just disregard it, sweet. They’ll leave soon enough.”

He continued laying his affections upon Julien; kissing him on any and all exposed skin and caressing his sides gently but all Julien could focus on was this feeling of wrongness he suddenly had and the muffled yells and banging coming from the door. Marlow shook his head and parted from him for a moment to place a chair under the door handle, barring it further. Clasping his hands together, he returned his attention to the red-head.

“Ignore... whoever that is. Let's return to your congratulating me...” he said, gaze turning predatory.

“Actually... can we not right now? I-I don't feel quite right,” Julien said, shuffling on the spot slightly and looking away.

Marlow let out an irritated noise, crossed his arms and began tapping a foot.

“Unbelievable. This is my big day and you're only thinking about yourself? What about _me_? I risked us being discovered to invite you over here and you're just going to what? Sit there?” Marlow snapped, throwing his arms up in the air and turning his back on him.

Julien flinched. He... he was right. This was a pretty important day and Julien was being quite self-centred. He meekly made his way over to Marlow and, after a moment of hesitation, wrapped his arms around him, nuzzling his head into the back of his neck.

“I-I'm sorry... I know how much this means to you I just… there's something I want to tell you first” he said in a brief moment of panic to backpedal slightly. The last thing he wanted was Marlow being mad at him!

"Oh? Well, why didn't you say so?" Marlow said, turning back to him with a forced smile that didn't hide his annoyance in the slightest, "What is it?"

Suddenly, Julien felt his mouth go dry. What was he going to say? Maybe it was the time to tell him how he felt? He'd been agonizing over it for months, perhaps it was best to just do it and get it out of the way? He wanted, no, _needed_ to get the words out but he just couldn't. So he just stood there, mouth opening and closing without anything coherent leaving it.

"Well? Are you going to tell me or are you just going to stand there all slack-jawed?" he said with a sharp, mocking laugh that struck Julien right in the chest.

After waiting a few moments more with no response, Marlow let out a frustrated sigh and left Julien standing there as he went back to his desk, leant down, opened a drawer and pulled a bottle of whisky with two glasses from it before returning.

"Come now Jules, surely you feel comfortable enough to speak with me?" he said coolly, handing Julien a glass and pouring some of the liquor into it, "Drink. Calm your nerves and tell me what's on your mind."

As Julien sipped at it, Marlow gulped down his in one go before refilling it and gulping again. With a deep breath Julien opened his mouth. It was now or never.

"Mar, I lov-"

The banging got louder. To the point where Julien couldn't even think let alone give this confession. They'd just have to get rid of whoever that was at the door.

“Maybe you should answer that?”

Marlow's eyes flashed with rage as he glanced towards the door but just as quickly they crinkled into a smile and Julien felt the man's large warm hands sliding around his hips, pressing him back against the desk again.

"Don't try to change the subject my sweet. You had such a serious expression for a minute there. You trust me, don't you?"

"Of course, Mar. What I was going to say was… well I… I think I'm in love with you," Julien squeaked out and felt blood rush to his cheeks and neck like it was Andraste's birthday. The breath caught in his throat waiting for a response from Marlow, not sure when he'd squeezed his eyes closed but they were now so tightly shut he couldn't seem to pry them open for the life of him.

A warm breath against his ear jolted them open after an infinity of silence and he could see Marlow's muscled shoulder and pale neck crowding his face. Julien sighed into Marlow's soft curls and returned the hug.

"I'm in love with you too, I never thought you'd say that." Marlow's voice was choked and muffled.

A feeling of giddiness bloomed in his chest, threatening to overwhelm him and he found it impossible to break his wide smile. Their embrace continued for the longest time and Julien imagined he could stay there for an eternity. The both of them immortalized by the power of their love, becoming statues for passers-by to gaze at while the buildings and people around them continued to age and crumble, eventually causing strangers to wonder who they were and what caught them in such a curse? It was mad but he couldn't help imagining it. His heart thudded, a warmth pressing hard against the inside of his ribcage just as Marlow pressed against the outside. Gradually their lips grazed skin and hands traces each other's angles and curves until kisses came more and more frequent and Julien couldn't smell anything but Marlow's musky skin and the sound of clothes falling to the floor only barely registered to his conscious mind.

Julien leant back to admire Marlow's now bare chest and drew his fingers lightly from the dip of his clavicle, stroking down his sternum and spreading his fingers across the slight dips between those striking ab muscles. It was breath-taking and a stirring between his legs caused an even deeper blush than before to burn his neck when he let his eyes flutter back up to Marlow's face.

"I owe you a gift, don't I?" he managed to ask without stuttering or sounding far too eager.

"You most certainly do," Marlow said, smile turning predatory.

Without warning, there was a loud crash as a gauntleted fist burst through the centre of the door, wooden splinters flying out and scattering everywhere. Reaching for the handle the door was wrenched open violently causing Julien's mouth to open in shock. Marlow growled and whipped his sword from its scabbard where it leaned against the desk.

"Holy shit!" Julien squealed, scooting backwards on the desk in such a hurry that he tipped off the edge, whacking his skull against the chair on the way to the ground. He curled into a ball, gasping in shock and pain as tears sprung to his eyes.

A worried voice shouted out, "Are you okay, sweet?" 

Julien's response was a string of strangled profanities as he rubbed his sore as fuck head.

"Don't move! You are all are under arrest for trespassing and destroying City Guard property!" Marlow shouted.

Heart racing, Julien analysed the room for any escape routes as more people rushed in to surround Marlow. While peaking over the desk he had a decent view of Marlow's naked back, a person in armour who stood a full head and shoulders above him, an elf crouching defensively, and a woman with a staff raised in her hands.

"Any closer and I'll be authorized to use deadly force," Marlow continued sternly.

"Let my brother go right now and I won't have to kill you," scorned the mage woman.

"You're mad. Delusional." He made a swing for her and as they dodged apart, Marlow took hold of the opportunity to snatch an ornamental dagger from the wall and slide it across the desk to Julien. "Sweet, please. I need your help. There's no reasoning with them."

Eyeing the dagger, Julien looked up at Marlow with a confused expression. He had no idea how to actually fight with a dagger! And _were_ these people beyond help? She'd only said one thing and it was more perplexing than insane.

"Mar, I don't think-"

"Now's not the time! Just pick up the dagger and stick her with it!"

"Julien? Don't listen to it! It's trying to trick you," she warned without letting her gaze move from Marlow, "Just come here and we'll get out of this nightmare."

"See? She's insane and obviously violent! Hurry and help me," Marlow snapped.

"Julien, please! It's me, Gwyn!"

"What? You look nothing like her, and even if you were…" _it's not like I know her at all anymore._

The room was thick with tension as both the intruders and Marlow eyed Julien as though his decision alone would hold the outcome of the standoff.

"Can't we just talk?" he whimpered.

"Get that dagger and kill the bitch, you moron!" Marlow whipped, "Don't you trust me at all Julien? I thought you loved me? Was that just a lie to get what you wanted from me?"  

Wincing, Julien shrunk back into himself. "Of course I wasn't lying, why would you say that?" he stood and took the dagger, clutching it awkwardly in his shaking hands.

“Enough, Julien. He's a demon. This is the Fade. I don't know who he is to you but this isn't real –  he isn't real!” she practically shouted.

She really was insane - but Marlow wanting to just kill her didn't seem rational from any angle. The entire situation was giving Julien an awful headache and a sick feeling in his stomach. "This isn't right Mar, why aren't any of the other guards coming to help?"

"They've probably killed them all! What is so difficult to understand?"

Marlow looked at the end of his tether and Julien just wanted to shrink into a dot. This felt completely wrong but what was he supposed to do?

"Why does it have to be me?" Julien finally asked, too afraid to press any further.

Marlow shot him a withering look. "Do I have to do everything for you? Fine," he huffed and stomped to Gwyn, angrily raising his sword.

Instinctivly, Julien leapt over the desk and wrapped his arms around Marlow's waist as Fortitude quickly snapped through the descending blade with one hand and Marlow's arm with the other. A bloodcurdling scream cut through the air as Marlow stumbled backwards, slamming Julien into the desk. Julien cried out in despair, ignoring his own pain at the sight of the blood spurting from the arm stump. He desperately looked about for something that would stop the bleeding, eyes eventually landing upon one of the torches on the wall. _Fuck the maker sideways_. He took a breath and moved to grab it from the sconce but his arm was caught midway by the woman.

"He's not human, I need you to trust me right now. If our time together ever meant anything to you Julien please just trust me for this one moment."

He hesitated.

"Please, just let me cauterize the wound before he bleeds out," he begged.

“He won't bleed out because this isn't real. Think about Dorian! Think about how happy you are with him!”

“D-Dorian? Who... that sounds familiar...” he said quietly.

"Yes! Think about me, how could you not?" Dorian gleamed as he strode through the door, his fingertips flaring threateningly close to the demon’s neck. "Looks like you've had some trouble finishing it off."

Panic and desperation was flooding through Julien's body and he whacked the woman away from him while lurching over to stand protectively in front of Marlow, not able to find anymore words to argue.

"Amatus?" Dorian drew back his hand.

"All of you just go away! You've done enough damage, don't you think? Can't you see he's dying? Just leave!"

Before anyone was able to reply to his pleas, Marlow shoved him aside and threw his arm up, fiercely hooking it around Dorian's throat in a choke-hold that pulled the mage onto his tip-toes. The elf made a move to help Dorian but Marlow only squeezed tighter as Dorian clawed at his remaining arm.

"Step any closer and I'll crush his windpipe, and I’ll have my sweet watch. Won’t you Julien? It would make me so happy."

Julien flapped his mouth dumbly, too shocked to properly take it all in.

"I’m only trying to protect you, my sweet. Is it wrong for me to want to protect you? Do you think anyone else would go to such lengths for you? No. I'm the only one!" Marlow’s eyes pierced Julien, bringing back a deep fear within him that pushed all rational thought to the fringes. 

"No, please don’t leave me Mar! I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s going on!"

“Julien! Snap out of it! Dorian is the one you love, not him!” The woman said, trying to reason with him.

Julien just sat there with stinging eyes that flicked across the scene, he felt completely powerless. He didn't know what to do! This Dorian looked and felt familiar but he couldn't place him. Marlow was the only one he knew. _Stick to the one you know_ , Julien told himself. He didn't want to end up alone.

"Just let them go" he begged one last time and held onto Marlow, unsure and confused by the violence while Dorian reached out his hand to grip at Julien’s sleeve. A fingernail barely brushed the seam but the demon had noticed and brought its grip tighter.

Gwyn could see she wasn't getting through to her brother. Whatever issues he had with this man, they were very, _very_ deep seated. So she flung herself at the demon, trying to pry at the arm holding Dorian. If Julien wasn't going to help, she would!

“Let him go!” she screeched, kicking at its legs as well.

Fortitude joined the fray but the demon spun itself around to use Dorian as a shield. Julien could see the elf stepping back from the fight with a hand held out as though he held something when in a whoosh of light the atmosphere rippled as a bow formed heavily in his fist, an arrow already in his drawing hand with its tip sharpened to a deadly point. It was an eerily familiar scene as the elf steadied his sights and aimed at the demon and Dorian, who was still being wrestled back and forth.

Feit could see Dorian in his sights again but was more than certain in himself, that he was the one drawing the bow. He didn't doubt himself now he could feel the pinch in his fingers and the ache of muscles in his arms and shoulder, and now he could feel the sting of the bowstring as it scraped his inner forearm when he let the arrow fly.

There was a wet thud as the arrow connected with Marlow's eye followed by the demon screeching and dropping Dorian, its hands coming up to its face. Julien caught Dorian on instinct, cradling and gaping at him dumbly as the mage coughed, spluttered and breathed deeply.  Julien knew this man, he could feel it, but the more he thought on it the more he realised how fogged his memory actually was. Confused he glanced up at Marlow, eyes widening at the horrific eye wound the man had suffered.

“NO! Julien! Drop him!” Marlow spat, black cloggy blood oozing out of the eye wound as he stumbled forward, arm outstretched.

Julien let out a choked cry that was an equal mix of both fear and grief as he clutched Dorian closer subconsciously.

“M-Mar! How are you still alive-”

“Drop. Him. **Now,** ” Marlow spat, ripping the arrow violently from the socket, trudging closer still, “I’m the one that needs your help, not that _maleficar_!”

Julien flinched and averted his gaze meekly, still stuck in a never ending spiral of indecision.

“Look at me! This is your fault, Julien. They’re killing me because of _you_.”

“I know,” he sobbed quietly, shutting his eyes firmly in an attempt to stop the tears that were threatening to spill. Slowly his memory was returning, and remembering that Marlow was in-fact not only already dead, but was killed by his own mother, made the guilt even worse. His mind was in shambles. But at last he was able to recognise the people around him, Dorian, Feit, Gwyn. She raised her hands and spirit energy formed at her fingers, pointing them to generate a cone shape that spiralled back towards her chest. When enough energy had built up, she released her hold and the magic sprang with so much force that the cone ripped into the demon’s chest as it screamed and gurgled, Marlow's torso torn in two. He coughed out the black, syrup-like blood that was also sprayed over almost everything in the room.

"You're a _cancer_ , Julien. Self-absorbed, clingy, needy, completely dependent, and a total glutton – what you eat for breakfast alone could feed my family for days! How could anyone love you? All you do is attach yourself to whomever shows you even the slightest bit of attention! It was eas-” its head was obliterated by a great ball of ice crashing down upon it.

Dorian hissed with disapproval and lowered his arm.

“That's enough of him. How unpleasant,” he said, scrunching up his nose.

Julien kept his head down, averting everyone's gaze. Marlow... the demon, was right – he _was_ all of those things. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat but it wouldn't go away. How could he even face everyone now he'd essentially abandoned them all? He tried to murder Gwyn! Dorian... he couldn't even bear to wonder what Dorian must think of him now.

 _We must move on, with haste._ The suit of armour asserted in a strange ethereal voice and turned to open an iron door which Julien hadn't even noticed was there until now.

"Wait a minute Fort, slow down,” Gwyn said, concerned gaze turning to Julien’s slumped form.

It was distressing to seeing him that way; crushed, leashed, manipulated and dominated. She’d seen mages acting like that; those who couldn’t handle circle life. The control and the isolation had them closing themselves off until there was barely anything left of their own hearts. To see him so defeated, his spirit crushed completely like this now was heartbreaking to say the least.

“Are you ok, Jules?” she added, taking a few steps closer to him.

Julien sat completely despondent, moving only slightly as Dorian sat up. Feit thumbed at his shirt, lingering at his back while Dorian gave long gentle stroke down Julien's spine.

“Julien?” she prodded further.

“The armour is right, we have to keep going. C'mon. Let's just get out of this shit-pit,” he said, quietly getting up and dusting himself off, wincing a little as his gaze darted to the pile of gore that was once human-shaped.

“It’s ok to be upset, we don’t have to leave straight aw-“

“Stop! Just… not now. Let’s just move on, please. I don’t want to linger here any longer.”

All stepping through the door, they walked in silence, hoping the challenges to come would not be so trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh Mar, you're so sexy, and also my shirt ripped?"  
> "Let's do it." Marlow proclaimed in a husky whisper. "And you can leave your tiny breastcoat on."  
> "ALRIGHT BOYS! BREAK IT UP NOW!" Fortitude stormed in brandishing a squirty water bottle and a fly swatter.  
> "No!" Marlow hissed and jumped up, clinging to the ceiling with his fingernails and toes.  
> "Ew, you were making out with that?" Gwyn drew her chin back in disgust.  
> "WHAT HAS MAGIC TOUCHED THAT IT HAAS NOT SPOILED?" cam an ominous disembodied voice which sounded and awful lot like fenris.  
> "OH MY GAWD!" julien evacuated his bowels.  
> "Stay back, crimnal scrutum!


	31. I know you're worth it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pieces  
> 9/10

As far as the fade goes, they'd only travelled a small distance before eventually coming to another door which Gwyn opened effortlessly. It practically swung open for them eagerly as though they were returning home. Inside was a beautiful garden surrounding an enormous estate with certainly more than two wings along its spanning architecture. Tall windows gave a light, open impression, while layers of curling vines and rows of gently blooming gardenias gave the façade and its surrounding gardens a cosy, inviting feel.

"Oh my!"Feit exclaimed. Something this beautiful he hadn’t expected to see, even the forest he awoke in didn’t have this much colour. "It's a palace!"

Vines heavy with flowers tangled their way along almost every possible surface and the path they walked on was framed with statues and busts with little birds twittering overhead. Feit wondered if they could be spirits too, and watched them spiralling around, plucking at the crab apples as the group made their way to the grand entrance.

Julien stepped forward, cleared his throat and rapped on the door. There were sounds of shuffling and tapping of shoes inside before the door creaked open a fraction. A little girl with buttery-blonde hair popped her head out.

“Uncle J! Uncle Dorian! Aunty Gwyn! Wow! I didn't know you guys were coming over!” she exclaimed, bolting out the door and attaching herself to Julien's legs in a fierce bear-cub-hug.

"U-uncle?" Julien sent a worried look to Gwyn and then Dorian.

“Hey sweetie, are your parents at home?” Gwyn moved in smoothly, asking the girl in her most gentle voice.

Shiny golden pigtails bounced as the little girl nodded her head enthusiastically. “Yup! They're doing dancing though so we can't interrupt them or Daddy'll get mad! You know how he gets. He can be a real grump sometimes” she said, looking rather mischievous.

The realization hit Julien pretty much straight away after that. Mad? Grumpy?

“It's Andre, isn't it?” he sighed, not sure if he should be relieved or scared. "Andre is in the fade. Fan-fucking-tastic. Oh shit-" he covered his mouth quickly. Sniggering, Dorian moved his arm, intent on tucking it around Julien's waist but frustratingly the red-head shuffled just out of his reach in his attempt to detach the small child.

The little girl gasped and swatted at his leg lightly.

"Uncle J! You said a bad! You have to put money in the swear jar now!"

"Says who, you little ankle-biter?" Julien stuck out his tongue at her, to which she pulled her eyelids inside out and growled at him. "Oh maker, what is it doing?" he jumped back.

The girl giggled at his reaction. "I'm doing what you taught me Uncle J."

Leaving Julien rather flustered, she wandered over to Feit, seemingly in awe of him.

“Wow mister, did it hurt to have those done?” she asked, pointing at his vallaslin.

"Yes!" Feit said to the girl, getting down on his knees. "So bad I cried. but they look really cool don’t they? So it was worth it. What's your name?"

"Delilah Lilly Montilyet-Trevelyan," she said with a small curtsy.

"Montilyet-Trevelyan?" Julien scoffed, "Surprised he didn't put Trevelyan first…"

"What a mouthful. Mine is just Feit, let’s go find your papa okay?" He smiled. Children were wonderful. Feit held his arms out and she jumped into them so he could carry her close to his chest. She felt so warm. It made him feel incredibly happy.

Fortitude- or Kyle- stepped to face the two of them and the group, speaking into their heads. _She is almost certainly a demon, friend. Be wary._

Feit laughed freely despite the warning, "let’s go! Which way da’len?" Delilah smiled and he began following her pointing fingers, jogging ahead of the group.

“Feit! Don't go too far ahead...” Gwyn called out, jogging after him with Fortitude and the others in tow close behind.

* * *

The group was lead out into the back gardens, an entire semi-circle of hedges enclosing it. The sun was glittering across a fountain pond filled with large black, red, and silver fish while under the shadow of a giant tree were an entire flock of strange small lumps. Some white or black, some patchy with brown and some mottled with cream or grey.

"What in Thedas?" Dorian mumbled.

"They're my bunnies Uncle Dorian! Aren't they cute?" Delilah giggled, skipping joyfully over to them, "They're sleepy right now but I can wake them up to play!"

"No that's not ness-" his words were cut off by a small fluffy bunny being shoved in his face.

"This is Marty!"

"Why bunnies?" Gwyn looked serious, rubbing her chin. "Is this _all_ Andre's dream?"

"Of course! Daddy has a soft spot for animals, you know," Delilah chimed, picking up another bunny and handing it to Feit with a big grin, "This one is Bluey."

Feit's eyes were wide with the ball of fuzz tucked in his arms, it's soft, downy ears flattened against its back as he stroked a light finger from its nose to its tail. "They're incredible!"

"Aren't they just the cutest things you've ever seen?"

"Delilah, where is- What is that?" Gwyn asked, pointing at the longest bunny she'd ever seen.

With a glance over her shoulder, Delilah laughed and picked it up, placing it firmly in Gwyn's hands before replying simply, "She's a Ferret! Her name is Starlight - kind of lame I know but Daddy insisted on calling her _that_ …"

"She's… the cutest thing I've ever seen!" Gwyn said with a squeal, hugging it gently. 

_We are getting side-tracked._

"They are so fluffy!" Feit chuckled, laying on the soft grass as more and more of the lumps of silken fur bounce and flop on top of him, licking him with their tiny tongues and nibbling at his clothes. "Aah, tickles!"

Dorian placed down the rabbit which stared dopily into his eyes and plucked at the wads of fluff remaining on his sleeves. "This demon doesn't seem too concerned about tricking us or trapping us. Is anyone else finding this utterly bizarre?"

"I've tried that so many times before and it works for some of course, but a surprising number are much… simpler than one is lead to believe. Must it always be so hostile?" Delilah shrugged her tiny shoulders.

"Of course _Andre_ saw right through you, didn't he?" Julien snapped bitterly, nudging one of the bunnies away from himself with his foot, "Why don't you just cut the crap and take us to him already?"

"Daddy is having so much fun here, why can't you let him be happy for a little longer?" her voice trembled a little and Feit sat up straight, looking at her with a confused expression but a shaking head from Dorian stopped him from taking any unwise action.

"I don't care about whether he's happy, I care about whether he's safe." Julien growled.

A freckled hand warmly met Julien's shoulder and he flinched for a moment before he saw Gwyn's profile. She was taller than him. _When did she get taller than me?_

"I'm sorry, but we need him back now. Please don't make things any more difficult than they need to be." Gwyn offered to the child.

Delilah battered her eyelashes and smiled sweetly, an air of mischief about her.

"Are you sure there isn't anything you might want? I get so lonely here without someone to play with," skipping over bunnies and ferrets, she tumbled into Gwyn's legs, hugging them with her childish arms before continuing, "I could bring back all your friends Gwyn; Penny? Maxwell? Felicia? Or the tranquil Arnslo? What about the old lady Merriweather? I could even bring back poor, beloved Lyndon." 

A slow intake of breath and a count of ten in her mind and Gwyn abated the sharp stinging tears before they managed to form. "Sorry, but no. Just Andre please."

A little frown and a twinkle of fairy steps later and she stood facing Julien and Dorian, both of whom moved an inch closer to one another in reaction, twisting fingertips together.

"You're already together, what more could you need? A beautiful home? Your own children? I can make that happen for you, and no one would ever look down on you again."

A wave of guilt rushed through Julien at the image she described, he couldn't possibly fit into that picture anymore, he chastised himself. After everything he'd done? So he pulled away from Dorian's hand and looked downwards, dodging his partner's curious glance while the mage raised a palm in certain declination.

"No, none of that. Day dreams shall stay in my head where they ought to."

Another sigh and she turned back to Feit who still sat, unsure of what to do surrounded by fluffy bunnies.

"Hmm, you're an odd one." she joked at him, traipsing over and patting his head. "Aphel would be safe here too, and everyone from back then, da'len."

Feit sighed. "That's fine, that's okay. I just want Andre and Apple back now. Not fake ones or different-world ones either."

Fortitude's voice rang through the air and puddled around the little girl, making her wince and cover her ears.

_You've received your answers, demon. Desist no longer._

"Okay." She shrugged and rolled her eyes, even going so far as to poke out her tongue at Fortitude while stepping past them.

_That gesture means nothing to me. I shall not reciprocate such behaviour._ Fortitude responded stiffly.

* * *

Getting lost in the estate wasn't so much of an issue as becoming side-tracked as far as Gwyn could see. The high ceilings meant the walls had plenty of room for a variety of art while the floors and end tables were clustered with expensive looking vases, each carrying a delicate arrangement of carefully picked flowers. So many of the paintings were vaguely familiar but she couldn't place them at all.

"It's just like back home." Julien commented sombrely, "all of the paintings are the same."

"Daddy likes it this way." Delilah smiled.

"Yeah, I figured." He grumbled angrily.

They finally made it back into the foyer and Gwyn stopped for a moment to look at the largest of all of the paintings, hanging above the hearth. She’d not noticed it when they’d rushed through earlier but this one - this one she remembered _vividly_.

“It’s…” she trailed off, stepping up to it in awe.

A family portrait; painted before she’d been sent away. She remembered posing for this for hours on end, legs and feet aching terribly by the end of the day. Julien and herself had caused nothing but trouble for the poor artist; stealing her paintbrushes while she wasn't looking and hiding them about the estate for her to spend hours trying to find. She giggled at that. These were fond memories.

Her eyes raked slowly over the entire thing as she took her time to examine each of her family members carefully. In the centre her Mother sat elegantly on a chaise lounge with a little Julien perched comfortably in her lap. Her hair was swept to one side; a silky cascade of soft blonde waves that framed her beautiful face with its easy, mirthful smile painted her soft lips. It sent a bolt of bitterness right through her heart. She looked so genuine but had she been lying to them even then?

Moving on, to the left of them stood Celeste and herself. Of the two of them, it was obvious who had inherited their Mother’s easy grace. Celeste looked impeccable – her glossy hair brushed straight with a flower crown placed perfectly atop her head while her smile matched their Mother’s perfectly. Gwyn, on the other hand, was the opposite. Her hair, while it had been braided nicely by her sister was slightly dishevelled; threatening to burst from the ties that pinned it to her head. They’d opted to weave flowers within the braids, rather than having the crown. She remembered Celeste telling her that her hair had a wild charm to it and the controlled placement of the crown would not compliment her at all. Gwyn just thought the crown would have been far too skewed sitting on the uneven texture of her hair.

And finally, at the back stood Andre and their Father. The two of them looked so alike, it was stunning. Both were wearing the same suit and had that awkward smile on their faces, like it didn’t come naturally at all to them at all. Gwyn giggled again at their dorkiness, their hair was even combed the same way! The only major difference was hair colour – her Father’s hair was that famous Trevelyan red, untainted by the grey streaks that she’d seen in it back at Skyhold while Andre’s was a darker version of their Mother’s. Gwyn thought it suited him far better than the red, although he apparently thought very differently.

“I still have one of her paintbrushes…” Julien said, suddenly shaking Gwyn from her trance. He'd been so quiet, she hadn't notice him approach

Giving the painting one last yearning look before turning away from it, Gwyn said quietly, “Even after all these years? Surely it’s broken by now.”

“Mostly, yeah. I used it as a stake to hold up my Prophet’s Laurel. C’mon Gwyn, we really should be moving on.”

With a nod, the two of them returned to the group and Delilah led them back into another series of corridors.  It was tempting to stray and gander at all of the beauty packed into the oversize halls, which Feit found himself doing, his feet lagging on the mosaic tiles as though they were a thick custard.

"Is Andre really here somewhere?" His whisper couldn't be heard from this far behind he realised, looking around startled to find himself alone. A few seconds of jogging and he joined the group again when they stepped through a pair of intricately carved doors. The vastness of the ballroom ahead made the halls behind look claustrophobic, practically cosy.

High marble buttresses encircled the room's perimeter, holding up the dome shaped ceiling that was so full of light Feit could barely stand to look up for long. Tall windows were framed by long draping curtains in swathes of gold and aubergine. A gentle harp accompanied by a well-timed triangle percussion filled the room invitingly a long with the warm scent of fresh baked scrolls of cinnamon and spiced fruit puddings. A familiar woman in a billowing dress the colour of an autumn sunset was being spun about the room as gracefully as a seasoned swan landing in the glassy water of a lake. Andre was dressed in similar formal-wear; a finely-spun suit of dark-blue brocade and a soft white cravat.

Julien snorted at the sight. His brother. Wearing a cravat. This was too good an opportunity to pass up.

“Hey Andre!” Julien shouted out loudly, gesturing to his neck, “It that an attempt to shield that enormously fat neck of yours?"

Andre stopped abruptly, visibly tensed at the harsh sound of his brother’s voice and Josephine, not being able to stop in time, crashed right into him. After helping her right herself, he whipped around to glare at him and opened his mouth to shout something back before he realised what was happening. If Julien and the others were here… a bittersweet look washed over him and he glanced back at Josephine and then to his daughter before sighing.

“Just... Just a moment longer. Please Julien,” he practically begged.

Looking back down at the image of Josie, he felt his safe happy place crumbling as reality clawed back to find him. It hadn't felt like a very long time to be in a demon's dream, after-all he had been told about demons and the fade, this had been entirely unexpected.

"You don't have to leave, my love, it's your choice to make." Josephine gave him a half smile, their bodies were still connected, hands clasped together and his arm around her waist. Was it more or less disturbing that she was so warm? That she smelled just like the real Josie? Andre couldn't work out the answer.

"It's my responsibility to my family. I couldn't live with myself if I did something to abandon them." he confessed. "They're everything that matters."

"We're your family too, Daddy," Delilah cried out, dashing across the room and throwing her arms around one of his legs, "aren't you happy here?" 

The group watched intently as Andre lifted the girl in a warm hug, kissing her lightly across each cheek, a third on the bridge of her dainty nose while the image of Josephine stepped around to do the same and Gwyn couldn't help but look at them as a perfect family.

As the pause continued, Andre's answer still awaiting to be said, Julien felt his frustration swell at the scene. Andre was fawning all over this demon, another that looked just like his friend at that, was his older brother seriously being taken in by their fantasies? He'd always thought Andre was the smart one, the reliable one, the responsible one. How could he be bought so easily?

He stomped forward a few steps, holding out his hand to Andre. "Dre! You're not seriously… you're can't be actually thinking of dealing with them, are you?"

"Of course he won't," Dorian shrugged, "that's absurd."

Andre only turned his head a little, his profile showing a tired face as he handed Delilah to Josephine and went to re-join the group. 

"Wait!" Josephine grasped the sleeve of his shirt, "there is so much more I can give you my love, let me make you happy. Please."

Delilah reached out her tiny hand and held Andre's stubbly chin. "Gwyn doesn't have to be a mage here. She can stay for as long as she likes, and your mummy and daddy can be here too, safe like things used to be." the girl giggled a little and grinned like a cheetah. "And Jules won't be horrible to you anymore. It'll be everything you ever hoped for!"

A look of desperation flashed through Andre's eyes and he could feel the painful stare boring into him from Julien that very moment. This _thing_ could give him a life without any stress, and turn back all this mess since… well since he was eleven and Gwyn started doing magic. Until this point he'd always been so afraid of her being… taken, possessed, tainted… the circle was her sanctuary, wasn't it? He felt himself taking shorter and shorter breaths, a wall of every doubt in himself he'd ever experienced building up around him, closing in on him and making it harder and harder to move or turn around. If he stayed, he wouldn't ever have to worry again.

"Andre, what the fuck are you doing standing there! Come back here already!" Julien's sharp barking voice shot into his chest, he was obviously angry but Andre couldn't summon the will to defend himself.

Josephine and Delilah were still standing with their hands on him, not restraining him in anyway and yet his feet were lead and his hands trembled. "No. I- no." He stammered and turned away, striding back to the inquisitive looks and unspoken questions.

Going through his breathing exercises, he attempted to calm the storm of emotions he could feel swelling within himself. He was no stranger to sacrificing his happiness for the benefit of his family but this time it was a little harder to swallow. He’d _lived_ it. The dream. Just hours of sitting in the garden with the two of them, not a care in the world, talking about silly, meaningless things.  The simple joy of peaceful, quiet family-life he so _yearned_ for. But those other things they’d offered – an agreeable Julien and a non-mage Gwyn? They’d be completely different people, strangers. That's not something he wanted at all.

“What the hell was that?” Julien snipped, crossing his arms over his chest in a fit of irritability, “I can’t believe _you_ hesitated.” 

Andre shot him a withering look. Perhaps Julien could stand to be a little less abrasive.

“What’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the number-one child? The best of us? The _perfect son_? You… to let yourself be captured by demons… what would Father think of you now?" Julien spat, the venom practically dripping off every syllable while he refused to meet Andre's eyes.

“Enough Julien!” Gwyn finally snapped, putting herself between the two of them as she saw Andre's hands clench into fists. The last thing they wanted at a time like this was in-fighting.

“We _all_ had our reasons for hesitating. These dreams are designed to entrap us, they come straight from our deepest desires and greatest fears. No one is safe from their temptations. What matters now is we’re all together and ready to go get Aphel. Can the two of you just please, _please_ not get at one another for the rest of our time here? Aphel needs us to work as a team."

It didn't take much time for Andre to send Gwyn a small smile of agreement where Julien sighed "Yeah, okay. Let's just go." pushing open the large double doors to leave.

A hand on Gwyn's arm gave her pause and Feit's cheery voice and warm smile made her blush a little.

"Thank-you."

"W-what for?" she asked cautiously.

He obviously hadn't expected her to ask that and looked a little lost for words but continued to smile nonetheless. "For what you said, about Aphel and… um… I don't know. You just made me feel a lot better about… this." he shrugged and waved his hand to gesture vaguely.

"It's fine," she laughed a little, caught up in the moment as she slung an arm about his shoulders, suddenly realising how much shorter than her he was, "let's go get her then."

 

 


	32. Catharsis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pieces  
> 10/10

Aphel was cold, so cold she was numb. And tired. How could she be so tired? She was sure she was already asleep and dreaming; or was it she had only imagined sleeping? After all, things had finally become quiet in her dream, so lying with her back to the frozen dirt was a sweet relief. First there had been Keeper Deshanna, looking younger than when Aphel had last seen her but still just as jovial. She'd joked for some time trying to convince Aphel to do it and it had seemed so bizarre. Until Keeper was on her knees begging and pleading, even threatening until she grew so violent and venomous she wouldn't stop until she forced Aphel to rend her through. When the adrenaline settled, Keeper’s body was laying at her feet, warm blood seeping into the earth with a faint sizzle when it hit the solid snow. Then it was her own mother; the woman she could barely even remember, but of course there was no escaping it and she too had fallen limp beside the Keeper. Her Hahren took longer, or perhaps Aphel had tried to run farther, but every step she took led her back to the same meadow and after every corpse fallen came another of her beloved thrusting themselves on her blade.

The red coagulant soaked her front and back, head to toe, her hands, arms, legs, and hair all drenched in it until couldn't remember what it was like to be clean. It always warmed her skin for the bare few seconds before it cooled to freezing in the dusky air. Eventually she began to enjoy that exhilarating moment of warmth as the blood sprayed from their gashes.

"Apple?"

"No Fey, please. Not again. Just let me sleep." She whispered up through the red grass, still lying on her back between the bodies as though they were only sleeping.

"Feit! Did… Did you find her?"

Gwyn stood next to Feit, completely frozen. The blood... all that blood. She had never seen so much red in her life. The sheer amount of gore splattered everywhere was sickening but she found should couldn't tear her eyes away. Gradually she could make out Aphel's figure among it and while she didn't appear to be hurt, something awful must have happened. That blood looked to be from the bodies around her, most of them elves but, Maker, so much blood! Gwyn swallowed hard. A wave of nausea hit her and her mouth began salivating grossly, a warning from her stomach. This wasn't the work of a demon? Her mind itself had conjured this? There had be some explanation for this kind of nightmare and yet her mind was blank. All she found she could do was turn from Feit as she threw up. Fortitude rushed to Gwyn's side and held her hair back as she emptied her not-stomach. She cursed herself. How was it she could get sick in the Fade?

Feit tried to get closer to Aphel but couldn’t see a way without stepping on a body and in his hesitation he lost his balance and fell flat between them.

“Aphel it’s me, Fey" he crawled closer while a deep feeling of despair clutched his heart, "it’s okay, we’ll take you home, come on, get up, please.”

Aphel couldn’t even bring herself to shift her gaze as she lie still as death. “Just go away.”

Andre, Dorian and Julien stumbled in not far behind – both stunned into silence at the scene. Julien stepped forward, not sure if he should interrupt the two elves. Aphel was his friend but she probably didn't want to see him right now, she'd want Feit to be the one to bring her to her senses. It would have been better if Celeste or Solas were here, they'd know what to do and- Dorian pushed him forward a little, urging him to do something instead of just standing there staring. He gulped and went forth carefully, jumping over the corpses to get to the other two. He shuffled a little awkwardly but kept his distance.

“Aphel... you... uh,” he mumbled, uselessly. He really wasn't very good at this. It probably wouldn't help at all and it could make things worse but he just had to ask. “How... what happened here?”

Surprise made Aphel open her eyes and push herself up onto her elbows but dread kept her clutching the ground.

"Julien? Why you? Oh creators, I don’t understand this anymore." She shook and flexed her bloodstained fingers through the red mud. Slowly she raised herself up to her knees and the group could see she was exhausted as every slow pull of muscle seemed to take all of her strength. "Do what you want. I won’t keep playing your game."

"No, it’s okay, we’re going to help you. We’ll take you home." Feit breathed, his voice shaking with worry while he shuffled closer. 

She glanced up at him quickly when she realised what he'd been saying, and as though seeing him for the first time she took in a sharp gulp of ice cold air, shooting her eyes to each of the newcomer’s faces in turn.

"Wait, you aren’t… You came here? Into the fade? But Josephine told me… did anyone else escape with you? What about Pa or Cy?" She reached out and clutched Feit's shoulders, uncontrollable joy at the warmth she felt there. "Fuck. I- I can't believe this. Julien I’m so sorry I didn’t mean for this to happen. It wasn’t Solas’ fault I promise. I just made a mistake, I shouldn’t have been so careless to run in like I did."

Julien gave her an odd look. What was she on about? She must be really confused or disoriented or something. What did any of this have to do with Solas? Or running away? She wasn't making any sense unless… shit.

“You... When you say “I shouldn't have run” you don't mean on the ship, do you?” he asked carefully, “Just how long have you been trapped here? What is the last thing you remember?”

Aphel frowned in thought. “I can’t be sure. It has felt like one endless day. I remember being in the caves under skyhold and seeing Solas there, then feeling him put his magic in me. Then I woke up here. I don’t sleep, nothing changes.” Aphel held her hand to her mouth and swallowed the painful lump in her throat. “I was sure I was dead.”

Well... shit. Julien swore loudly and walked away for a moment, running his fingers through his hair as he paced back and forth on the spot. She's been trapped here? All this time? The Aphel he was talking to and bonding with this entire time was what? A demon? A spirit? She has no idea what's happened the past couple of days... which means. Oh. Oh poor Celeste. His heart broke for his sister. Perhaps it was a good thing she wasn't here. Shit. How was he going to explain this to Aphel? The one here not the other one! She's missed so much, he didn't even know where to begin.

Gwyn frowned. Whelp, that reprieve was short lived. Sighing, she turned to Aphel.

“I take it you don't recognise me then?” She queried.

 Aphel looked at her closely but shook her head. “No, I’m sorry.”

Julien supposed he should feel at least a small nugget of relief or happiness at Aphel returning to her senses but all he felt was utter exhaustion. Today had just been one heart rending ordeal after another, he wanted nothing more than to just bury himself into the ground and forget he even existed. He was not in the right frame of mind to go too deeply into this but he had to, didn't he?

“It's alright, but I think we should leave it for when we get back. I don't want to tarry here for any longer than I have to.” he said, drifting off.

“You think it will be that simple?”

The voice carried from the line of trees encircling them, but for certain Feit recognised it. 

"Apple? What’s going on? why is there-"

Feit gasped and fell back against his sister as from the far end of the forest emerged a figure who’s mahogany skin glittered with the fractured ice coating it; her golden vallaslin shimmered vividly and her amber eyes were pin-points. The second Aphel drew her hand through the air, conjuring as she went, till a blade emerged from the air which reminded Feit of one Aphel had when she was twelve.

”I’ll take what I need from all of you, and then I'll take your last breath.” she snarled.

"Why are you over there?" Feit interrogated Aphel, "why is she so evil?"

"That’s the demon, she keeps… keeps making me hurt everyone." It took even more of her overused strength but Aphel raised herself on shaky legs. "Julien, get Dorian and my brother out of here. It sounds like she has a way to get to us so I’ll try to hold her off while all of you escape. I’m done for, so just go, please."

"Aphel, she’s not a demon, she’s you!" Feit cried.

Fortitude stepped up to Aphel’s side as she closed her eyes tightly to avoid seeing Feit’s expression. 

She knows this already.

Feit's hands had become painfully tight around Aphel's shoulders but Aphel wouldn't let him change her mind. Every time she let someone else fight for her they just ended up dying, always taking part of her with them.

“We came here to bring you back, Aphel, not just leave you behind. We've come too far to let you go now,” Julien said, picking the bow and quiver from a corpse as he strode to her side, “Besides, you can't give up. You're the Inquisitor – who will seal rifts and stop Corypheus if you perish here?”

“There must be some way to end this without anybody dying!” Gwyn exclaimed, trying to make her way over without looking directly at the blood.

"What are you on about, Julien?" Andre finally piped up, "You're the Inquisitor, not her." he ended in a questioning tone.

Julien rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand in his direction. "I'll explain later, Butterball."

Aphel was silent for a moment but eventually she looked back to him with vast uncertainty stinging her eyes. 

"You’ll help me? Out of this?" Couldn't he see how impossible things were? She couldn't leave her own mind for creators sake. Letting others be caught up in violence to save her was everything she'd promised herself she wouldn't do since her clan was massacred and it so desperately wanted to make her refuse. But that other part of herself; the one stalking them from the edge of the bloody meadow, wanted nothing more than to have her fail. It took strength to accept help, but Aphel didn't know if it was the kind of strength she even had. "If she consumes me nothing will change for you Julien. I can’t ask you to do this. We’ve only known each other…"

”I’m afraid it isn’t your choice anymore.” The other Aphel growled at them from the edge of the meadow, pacing along the tree line.

“Well it's a good thing you didn't ask me then - I'm volunteering. We're friends Aphel, time doesn't lessen that. Besides, you still owe me that cheesecake,” Julien said, flashing her a smile.

“Why is she just.... pacing? Shouldn't she be trying to attack us?” Gwyn pondered out loud, watching the other Aphel's movements closely.

"So far she hasn't been able to get any closer, only… she could only send the others in.” Aphel told her grimly, "but it sounds like something has changed, maybe you coming here did something."

“'Sounds like something has changed'? That isn't terribly useful information, how does it help our current situation?" Andre said, finally marching up to the group, "Can we not just leave the same way we came in?”

“None of you will leave!” The false Aphel shouted furiously and lowered her sword to the earth in a single strike, blowing shards of ice up at their feet, ripping up grass and tearing through the corpses. 

Aphel yelled in shock and jumped aside while fortitude stood tall and blasted through with his fist.

"I don’t know anything else! I haven’t been able to leave and she won’t get closer."

"But, she's part of you." Feit hummed in thought.

"I don't know if she is anymore." Aphel responded.

With a frustrated hiss, Andre marched up to Fortitude and tore the halberd off their back, testing its weight in his hands. They were getting nowhere fast. Just standing around talking in circles was pointless, that thing wasn't going to wait for them to finish arguing semantics.

“If she won't come to us then we will go to her!”

“Don't be stupid, Andre! We can't just run in blindly! We need a plan, more information, something,” Julien argued before turning to Aphel, “Has she done anything else? Said anything interesting?”

"No, I practically never saw her, the first time she appeared it was only for a moment."

On the edge of the medow, she raised a bow and loosed an arrow that headed straight for Andre’s head. But as it closed in, it evaporated until only droplets of water hit the back of his head.

Andre flinched at the sudden wetness and turned around quickly, swinging the halberd wildly. Fortitude grabbed the haft of the weapon with ease and ceased its movement.

Careful. You don't want to kill anyone unnecessarily. It feeds off despair, you all must keep your hopes up – do not add to its influence Fortitude advised.

“Easier said than done, I'm afraid” Gwyn said, gesturing in Julien's direction. He was acting tough but she could tell he was barely holding it together. She walked to his side and reached out to pat him gently on the shoulder.

“Jules... I know you're having a hard time but you've got to pull it together. We can't let it get to us, just ignore it,” she said, trying her best to say it as delicately as possible.

Julien scoffed and shrugged her hand off.

“Oh wow, I never thought of doing that - just pulling it together and ignoring it! Thanks Gwyn, I'm all better now!” Julien said in a tone so sarcastic it made her cringe.

"Stop this!" Feit yelled. "Apple, it’s you, she’s you, what happens if you kill her? We’d be killing a part of you! Please don’t do this!" his legs were quaking.

“Everyone! He's right! We need to think of an alternative, reason with her somehow. Or at least do something non-violent; we could destroy her mind and spirit if we harm the other one. It doesn't seem to be able to hit us or come close here so we have all the time we need to devise a plan! We have to stick together! We've made it this far, only a little way to go now!” Gwyn rallied, trying to stay positive and keep everyone together, regardless of if they wanted to or not.

Aphel looked at Feit’s profile, he looked like a complete wreck, which was understandable considering the circumstances and she just wanted to hug him and tell him it would all be okay and keep him safe. If there was one person she hated herself for lying to, it was him. He was so gentle and kind, and most of all he was honest. So much that Aphel wished she could be. But this was serious; when he was in danger like this, Aphel couldn’t let him be hurt. He might hate her for a long time, but he would be alive.

"Julien, promise me you’ll look after Fey."

He nodded slowly, “you have my word. It sounds like you have a plan, nothing that puts your life in danger I hope.” He didn't like the way she had phrased that. It sounded ominous. It sounded like something someone would say if they were going to do some self-sacrificing. There would be none of that. He'd not lose anyone under his watch. Especially not a dear friend.  

"I can’t leave my own mind, Jules, but something keeps us separated and I have a feeling it is Solas’ magic. I’ve felt it ever since I woke up. Something he said to me some time ago might help us; he told me that a spirit becomes a demon when it’s purpose is distorted." She hoped Julien could read her meaning, he must have had about as much experience as her with demons by this point. "If I can force her focus on me, you all should be able to escape and when you do I can hold her for long enough that you can take her down. It’s all I can ask Julien… Our family are alive here. In my world, I’m the only one left." Aphel sighed, lowering her eyes to her bloodied feet. "I know how selfish it is of me, but I can be satisfied with knowing you and my family survive."

“Not good enough.” Julien said plainly, crossing his arms, “I'm not satisfied with letting millions of people perish just so we can escape! We are not leaving you behind! You aren't alone in your world! Think about your friends - about Dorian and Blackwall and everyone back at Skyhold! Think about all the people of Thedas that depend on you! If you die here, they are all dead! They believe in you, trust in you! You can't let them down like this! The Aphel I know wouldn't just lay down and let this just happen!”

This was one thing he would not budge on. Her world was just as important as his! His family was still alive there and he'd not let them down a second time. He was sick of people dying for him and he was almost certain she was sick of people dying for her.

"Julien please! This is hard enough already. I can’t-" Her words were drowned out as Fortitude shouted past them and Dorian, Andre, and Gwyn sprang to attention.

Stop! We have not come to a decision!

He called to Feit who stood, two long fangs of ice in his hands, as sharp as daggers, held high above the other Aphel’s back. His pale blue eyes held no hesitation as he slashed the blades down, strong and fast enough to strike cleanly through tendons, muscle and bone. The dead silence of the meadow was only broken by the grotesque, wet thud of the severed limbs slumping to the grass.

"Fuck that! How dare you say that, Apple! You’ve never let yourself rely on me!" He shouted vehemently. His normally light-hearted exterior crumpling, despite the single-mindedness he'd just shown, the air was warming up around him so rapily that steam plumed up from the frozen earth. "I’m a killer too you know."

The now armless creature screamed violently in shock “No! No! You can’t!”

The sudden intensity of Feit's actions had all of them stunned into silence. Gwyn felt her legs collapse beneath her, the shock too much for her to handle. Before she hit the ground, however, Fortitude caught her. Andre walked briskly towards the downed, crippled elf with his halberd pointed at her head. She would not be moving from that spot unless told to.

“Can't say it wasn't uncalled for. Good on you for making a concise decision. What shall we do with her then?”

Looking down at her, Feit could sense the unbridled force of the spirit as it twisted about in desperation. It wasn't a demon; if they killed it, Aphel would be hurt; if they did nothing, Aphel would be trapped. It was an impossible situation.

"I- I don’t know." He said and looked up at Andre, sudden tears stinging his eyes and blurring his vision. "I don’t know."

Dorian stepped forward and skated his hand across the fade at the perimeter of the meadow. “I see what you meant by Solas’ magic, his fingerprint is all over this. Some sort of barrier perhaps? I may have an Idea if it so pleases. Gwyneth, you have experience with spirits do you not? Would you see it possible for us to unbind each part of Aphel and somehow return them to a single state?”

"You’ve got to be joking. You want to put them together? She’ll go insane." Andre fumed.

Dorian raised one of his perfectly plucked eyebrows and crossed his arms. "Which one of us is magically trained?"

"Listen here Dorian, you-"

Andre's rebuttal was silenced with Gwyn clearing her throat and throwing him a stern glare.

"It is the only other option we've got besides murdering her. Don't you think it's worth a shot?"

“We're damned if we do and damned if we don't!” Julien groaned, running a hand through his hair, “In the end, it's up to her... I won't force this upon you Aphel. The decision is yours to make. Personally though - I think we should at least try.”

Andre tore his eyes from the mutilated elf, turning his gaze to Aphel.

“If you decide to do this, if it is too much to handle and you feel yourself slipping... just say the word and I’ll end it,” he said grimly, too afraid to turn back and look at Feit. Once again he was offering to be the headsman, just as he had with his Father; as he could end up being for his Mother if he failed to fulfil his promise to protect his siblings. Ending Aphel's life would destroy Feit, but he couldn't expect him to kill her himself. If it was one thing Andre was good for – it was making hard decisions.

It was a long moment before Aphel slowly nodded her head in thanks to Andre and headed to give Julien and Dorian a small hug each, lastly drawing Feit into her arms. 

"I trust you Fey, I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t. I’m just a terrible overbearing sister." she chuckled.

Feit was sniffling messily now and couldn't reply without hiccupping so he just pressed his face into her shoulder.

They all stood at the precipice, watching either Dorian or Aphel as Gwyneth and Fortitude kept the other Aphel from conjuring anything. Gwyn tried her best not to look at the bloody stumps, she needed to be fully aware if they were going to do this correctly. Honestly, she was a little embarrassed at her... reactions to all the recent bloodshed. It really proved just how inexperienced she was at all this – sheltered even. She hoped she'd adjust soon enough for there was certain to be much more of it to come. She swallowed nervously and licked her lips to give them moisture so her next words wouldn't come out so obviously tense.

“There isn't a way to know if this will even succeed, and combining the fragments of her spirit will most likely be painful initially, but you must hold onto your sense of self, okay Aphel?”

"Thank you, I owe everyone so much for even trying to help me." Aphel sighed. Sense of self? How long had she been pretending to be the herald everyone needed? And now apparently she'd lost an entire chunk of her memory as well. Would she even remember herself as she was anymore?

Hissing laughter came from the darker part of Aphel who spoke, with the hair-raisingly familiar voice, words that made Aphel's blood curdle. "Yes, think very carefully about who you really are, harelan. I'm showing you the truth.”

“Don’t let her get to you, Tatts. Sometimes it's hard to see the forest for the trees, but you’re you. You’re your family, your friends. That might sound vague but it’s true. You're worth more than the worst parts of yourself." Julien placed a hand firmly on her shoulder. “All the Inquisitor business is your job – not you. Separate yourself from it. Think of your likes, dislikes, favourite food, which side of the bed you like to sleep on that sort of mundane stuff. It's the little things that make up the whole picture.”

Gwyn glanced up and locked eyes with Dorian, giving him a nod.

“You ready to help me with this? I'll unbind one while you do the other – at the same time, yes?” 

"At the risk of repeating the old tropes, I was born ready." Dorian gave a quick kiss to Julien, drawing the rogue in with a hand under his chin, then stepped back and began to focus his mana. 

Feit raised his arms to shield himself, as if that would help. His heart had been pounding since Gwyn had brought him to his senses, though now the sick feeling growing from his stomach was a much different sensation. Something like dread.

Gwyneth closed her eyes and began humming quietly to herself. The feeling of the vibrations the sound made in her head grounded her – helped focus her energy. She gathered her own mana, focusing it to a point and readying it to strike the barrier and release the other Aphel. Not letting go of that focus, she took a deep breath.

 “Ok, Dorian. On the count of three. One. Two.... three!” she said, releasing the magic on the last count.

“AAh!!” Both Aphel’s gave a sudden shout at the shock, the barrier torn away from between them.

The moment only lasted for a hundredth of a second, but it spanned millennia. Aphel was thrashed against waves of memories and thoughts, the utter detachment and  dissosiation brought by this other part of herself had her gasping. The despair was real, the anger, the fear, the loss and sadness. She could feel Feit’s pain; Was it my fault? Celeste’s frustration; Why couldn’t he trust me? Julien’s fear; Was it all a lie? Andre’s anger; I can’t protect them all.

_"But what about you?"_

She felt a will pull at her thoughts, Cole?

_"You have pain too."_

No I can’t think like that, there’s too much I have to do, I can’t afford to-

_"It’s okay._ "

Is it?

_"Sometimes you have to forget, but sometimes you have to remember. You need to remember. Remember Aphel. Don’t let it slip away from you."_

Aphel was shocked at the heat surrounding her and her eyes ached when they opened. “Nae savu’nin. My throat feels so dry.”

"Ma Vhenan." Solas smiled above her and without hesitation pulled her into his chest.

 


	33. Our intentions are mystifying but the tension is electrifying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ripples  
> 1/6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the new part of the story!
> 
> Aphel has been "cured", Andre is still horribly seasick, and Julien is being a little prick, FUN. so much fun. Not to mention this part will take us into KIRKWALL *kick it* YEEEeeaaaaahhhhh.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and we appreciate any comments and advice.  
> ~Kim & Kill

Celeste sat, legs crossed, on the floor of the Captain's quarters, her attention not entirely focused on the rather bland game of Wicked Grace she was currently in the midst of. Although, she supposed it didn't really matter in the end, Torun was a sub-par player and she was far too good at cheating for there to be any other outcome than her victory.

She glanced to the sleeping forms of her siblings on the floor. Not a single one of them had stirred in Maker knows how long. An hour? Half? There was no way to tell and she was far past the point of being merely worried; she didn't even want to entertain the thought of what each of them might be going through right now. And to make matters worse no one was talking at all. All conversations ceased a while ago when they'd all exhausted ideas on how to resolve the situation quicker or at least determine how they were doing. The tension was so thick in the air, one could cut it with a blade that had the dullest of edges.

A few more passes and the angel of death was drawn, strangely earlier than she'd planned as she'd barely gotten her second pair, which was frustratingly short of  Torun's hand, splaying his cards like a peacock's tail to show off his three pair. She winced inwardly; she'd been so confident! This could not be happening to her, admitting defeat was just not an option.

Thankfully Aphel's croaky, strained voice cut through the air and Celeste thanked the Maker for both her finally waking and the perfect opportunity to escape her embarrassment. She turned her head, purposely forgetting their game and focused on Aphel. She wasn't attacking or mouthing off at anyone so it seemed the others had been successful then. With a small satisfied smirk, she gathered her cards into a pile and flicked them directly at Torun's face as she stood and made her way to the bed.

"Hey! I was winning!"

"You have no proof, seaman." Celeste said, poking her tongue out childishly at him before turning to Aphel, "How are you feeling?”

"I'm steaming." Aphel flustered and pressed her cooler palms against the heat of her face. Having part of her spirit detached hardly did anything for her confidence, and now that her memories returned there came along with them many overwhelming and contradictive emotions.

"You can let it all go now." Cole knelt beside Aphel as she sat up and gave him a knowing look.

"Cole, that voice was you wasn’t it? You helped me." somewhat expected tears melted down her cheeks but Aphel smiled nonetheless. "Ma serannas dalen." She said, scooping the boy into a warm cuddle.

"Oh, it’s alright." he giggled and hugged back.

When they parted Aphel noticed Dorian stirring while Julien appeared to be making some strange noise.

"What on earth?" Isabella nudged him with the hilt of her dagger, curiously shaped in the form of a nude King Alistair.

"I think he’s snoring." Celeste smiled wistfully.

Still in the fade; Gwyn looked around the now pristine field. All of the blood had disappeared once Aphel had, leaving behind only the crisp, white grass illuminated by a shining sun. Looking back at it and seeing how persevering everyone had been, it seemed everything was going to be alright. Still, she felt a little sad.

“Fortitude... thank you so much for your help. If you hadn't shown up when you did I'd still be trapped... I can't even begin to express how grateful I am,” she said, looking up at their helmet with a smile. "I ought to get back to myself soon, hate for them to think I'm being possessed again." she joked tiredly.

This whole ordeal, while being exhausting, had finally allowed her to not only speak to, but actually meet her life-long friend. Part of her wanted to stay, to just sit and talk with them, catch up on all their lost words but she knew she couldn't. It would worry the others if she didn't wake soon. Fortitude stepped closed to her, grabbing her hands and holding them with more gentleness than she expected from metal gauntlets.

 _You don't need to say anything, we will do as we usually do. And you have no need to fear possession. What happened before was only a… something of a hijacking, in so many words. I should have been stronger for you._ They said, leaning forward and pressing their helmet gently against her freckled forehead.

In that one moment, both of their thoughts and feelings flowed into each other. The familiar warmth and happiness filled her and she smiled widely. The block was lifted now. There would be more opportunities to speak with one another. This wasn't a good-bye but more of a speak with you later. They pulled apart and Gwyn patted their pauldron affectionately. She would have to draw him once she woke – so she wouldn't forget what he looked like. Still, what they'd said was confusing.

"What do you mean 'hijacking?"

_I realise some things are still unknown to you, and knowing or not knowing; neither may be better or worse than the other._

"Huh?… what does that even mean?" were they being evasive? Since when has Fortitude ever kept something from her? It was difficult to feel betrayed, everyone had a right to privacy, but… "You don't want to tell me?"

_I am unsure. The outcome might be unpleasant for the both of us._

"That really doesn't reassure me Fort." Gwyn groaned with frustration. "Well thanks for telling me I can't be possessed anyway. I'm sure it'll make everyone feel much safer, or they'll just think I'm nutty."  

_Fortitude brought a hand to their chest. You shall never be regarded as nut-like by myself, Gwyn._

Gwyn’s sudden sharp laughter startled Andre, making his curiosity peek as to what those two were talking about. Perhaps moving out of earshot had been a mistake.  The idea of giving them some privacy wasn’t an inherently a bad idea but it did make him feel a little apprehensive; were they truly sure this ‘Fortitude’ could be trusted? That it wouldn’t try to possess her? How did they know it wasn’t another demon masquerading? He frowned slightly. On the other hand, Gwyn seemed to trust it and it had been helpful without asking for anything in return. He wouldn’t be able to tell anyway, what Dorian had said earlier _was_ true; he really knew nothing about magic or demons. It made him feel better however to keep a hand firmly on the shaft of the halberd and a close eye on them.

He stood vigilant and watched them for a moment longer before a thought occurred to him; how exactly were they going to get out of here? He assumed they’d have woken up when Aphel did. Julien and Dorian were gone, why were the three of them still here? He swallowed his panic and, while keeping his eyes trained on Fortitude, leaned over to Feit.

“Do you know how to leave this place?” he whispered.

"Pinch me?" Feit suggested partly but not totally in jest.

Andre obliged and pinched him as hard as he could but all that happened was a slight deafness in one ear from Feit's loud squealing. He frowned deeply.

“Well that didn't work... try punching me as hard as you can in the face, right here,” Andre said, determined, and pointed to his left cheek.

"All right. I hope you’re ready for this." Feit obliged, drew back his weight and went in for the blow, but when it connected, Aphel fell back on her arse on the galley floor.

"Fenhedis! Okay, I get it, you’re mad." She pouted, rubbing her quickly swelling cheek.

"Branka’s breeches, I didn’t mean to do that!" Feit help his arms up defensively but when Aphel grinned at his reaction he realised they were back in their own bodies and he kicked at her legs playfully. "You're okay! And everyone is okay! Andre? Did you wake up?" he searched around.

"Yes." Andre raised his hand. The room was still packed with people, many who seemed to have been sitting in wait were now clapping each other's backs in relief and chatting eagerly. Some of the Templars looked frazzled however but the mages quickly swirled about Aphel, asking her questions and taking notes.

Gwyneth was being helped up by The Iron Bull and giggled at Feit’s antics.

“I suppose my timing was a little off then.”

Dorian laughed to himself and gently shook Julien until his eyes fluttered open. Julien squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light, groaning slightly as he sat up a little. Maker's balls he felt groggy! Like he'd been asleep for a millennia. He glanced around at the others. They looked fine! Well this wasn't fair! And his face was wet? Oh. Oh he did _not_ almost drown himself in drool in front of everyone! He quickly wiped his face on his sleeve, hoping nobody noticed.

Varric cheered and all of them marched out, moving their limbs testingly and sharing their experiences with the Templars and mages who had been watching over the ritual tensely. The sensation of the sea rocking them back and forth hit Andre in the guts and he felt the nausea return at full force.

“I… I think it might be a good idea to have an early night." he groaned.

"What are you talking about? The night is still young!" Dorian said, "I saw an amazing stock of Agreggio, let’s get splintered!"

Some in the crowd cheered but Julien felt awful, and not from any sort of sea-sickness. The events in his dream continued to trouble him deeply and while he had avoided thinking too seriously about Marlow, all of those feelings associated with the man were beginning to bubble over. It was at the point where it was almost overwhelming. With a sense of routine, he swallowed them, pushed it back down again and let his face relax. It was important he appeared fine, be strong for the others. He forced a smile.

"Actually, I think going to bed early is a good idea… you guys go ahead though. Have fun," he said, quietly slinking off away from the group. 

"Ah." Dorian's hand dropped as he watched Julien slip away.

"Dorian?"

He turned his head and felt a buzz of shock. He'd spoken to and seen her many times now, but Gwyn still gave him an inkling of distress, most likely due to the ghastly business during their initial meeting and it nearly causing Julien's demise. He was well averse in people having prejudice towards mages, and he assured himself that this was genuine concern, not just mistrust for someone who had fallen into a demon's trap. Not everyone could be as talented as himself.

"Hello there my sister in magic. I am thoroughly glad to see we've all pulled back through." Dorian offered her a glittering smile.

Gwyn was tempted to roll her eyes but managed to give him a strained smile in return. "Me too, but, maker this is so strange to say, Julien doesn't seem like his usual self to me. I'm pretty sure he just _agreed_ with Andre." Both of their eyes moved down the hall where he had just been, then gradually moved back to one another, Gwyn looking as though she was searching for some sort of answer.

Dorian nodded pensively, not quite certain the answer she wanted was the one she needed. "That _was_ bizarre, yes."

"It must be about what he saw in the Fade, don't you think?" She looked as though she'd been talking Templars out of their knickers for years, and while he could appreciate the fiery copper of her braids and the low lilt of her voice that was so like Julien's, she wouldn't be persuading him to take her place in this particular occasion.

"Why don't you speak with him?" he asked, raising a brow and studying her expression intently which turned deadpan.

"I think it's rather obvious why."

"Is it? Because I've got the sense he hardly feels like talking to me about his dream. Perhaps what he needs is his sister?" Having a current partner ask about a previous one could only end in tears and mad jealousy in his experience. Although Julien's ex seemed rather more complicated than most.

"You're right, but try telling him that. I know he's been avoiding me this entire time, Dorian. I've not had a moment alone with him since we were eight." she said sombrely, pausing for a moment before letting out a frustrated sigh, "I hate seeing him like this. Promise me you'll speak to him about it."

Dorian acquiesced, "I'll check on him tomorrow, but if you find him, just… talk to him." He pressed, "I know he missed you more than he will say. Goodnight." Tipping his jewelled fingers in a light bow, Dorian sauntered off to find a comfortable bed, hoping she really could help.

Gwyn stood still for a moment, preparing herself mentally for what was to come. This was going to be awkward no matter what they talked about. All this time spent apart and she never in her wildest imaginations pictured their first real conversation being about _this_. It was one way to break the ice, she supposed. Releasing an exasperated breath, she turned to leave but came face to face with Celeste leaning against the railing with an expectant look on her face.

"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. I’m both curious and worried, Julien usually isn’t this…” she paused for a moment, searching for the right word, “ _Agreeable_. What exactly happened back there?"

Gwyn frowned slightly and bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t want to spend too much time explaining things, so she would give her the abridged version. Surprisingly for Gwyn, Celeste's response was mixed with both understanding and unawareness.

"Julien and the _Guard Captain_?" her brows raised a little. "I thought there could have been something going on; I saw him leaving the estate far too many times for it to just be work related talks with Andre. Now my memories of Julien spying on Andre and him sparring seems much less innocent." she leant her forehead against her hand with an incredulous grin.

Instead of laughing along with her, Gwyn gave her an astounded look. This was _news_ to her? How could she not know about them? Had she been living under a rock? From the dream it was obvious Marlow was a major part of Julien’s life, how was she not aware?

“You didn’t know? _How_? Did Andre?”

“Well… I can't imagine he would." Celeste looked resigned with her arms crossed and her gaze distant. "Julien doesn’t exactly talk to either of us, Gwyn. He’s a very guarded person and basically shut himself away after you were taken to the Circle.” Celeste told her sister sadly, giving an almost guilty look, “He and Andre had a major falling out during a hunting trip, which basically ended any civility they had together, and with me… well Father has kept me busy basically since the day I was born. Even made me get engaged." she ended with a shudder.

A long sigh from Gwyn told how far her heart had dropped. "I thought… I'd imagined he'd forgotten about me."

"Why on earth would you think that?"

"Because then he wouldn't be as lonely as I was." Gwyn raised a hand, signalling that they'd gone off topic, missing the look of pity she was currently receiving from Celeste who had the strongest urge to pull her little sister into a bone-crushing hug.

For Gwyn though, she’d heard enough. "Marlow was Andre's friend, what kind of person did he seem like to you?"

"Well," Celeste cast her mind back to fish up those memories of him, Marlow the sharp-nosed boy who'd made friends with her stony brother, the young man who's gentle attentive nature and meager origins made him perfect for the guard. She'd admired his appearance as-well, but Andre's friendship with him kept her within those boundaries. "He was an excellent guard, especially when it came to the citizenry. Not to mention Andre looked up to him; very calm and conscientious."

"Really?" Gwyn puzzled. " _Conscientious_?"

"What?"

"He wasn't at all like that in Julien's dream."

The wheels in Celeste's brain whirred. "It was a demon though, not really him."

"Y-yes." While true, Julien's own behaviour didn't really make sense and all together it was painting a grim picture of the life he and the rest of them had lead. It sounded like Julien had been in so much pain, so much misery and yet he’d said nothing to Celeste or Andre. He’d allowed himself to suffer in silence, the thought of which was almost too much for her to bear. Feeling determined, Gwyn adjusted her braids; she was here now and he needed to be reminded that he wasn’t alone anymore. They may have been apart for longer than they’d been together but she was sure she’d be able to get through to him eventually… And if he was willing to talk to her, she would stay and listen to every word. 

“Sorry, but I really have to go find him now.” She said, pulling her older sister into a quick hug before trotting off.

“Of course, Gwyn. If anyone can get through to him it’s you. I’ll be nursing a glass of wine in the galley if you want to join me after!” Celeste called after.

* * *

It took a lot longer then she’d planned to track him down. Of course he wasn’t in the crew’s quarters like he said he would be and apparently no one had seen him anywhere. Going there hadn’t been a complete loss however, she’d found Blackwall and a few inquiries later, she had a better idea of where to look. Apparently he liked to hide up in the rafters when dignitaries or messengers were hunting him down so that narrowed her search area. She eventually found him perched up high atop a stack of crates down in the hold, lounging on his back with a leg swinging off the side.

"Jules?" she called out with trepidation.

"Hey Gwyn," he said steadily, eyes still trained on the ceiling, "What brings you below deck? I thought there was a party going on up there."

He sounded fine but Gwyn knew better; he always was good at keeping a straight face. "I came to check up on you, I checked your quarters but no one was there... I thought you said you said you were tired."

"I couldn't-” he stopped abruptly then sighed, followed with a bitter chuckle, “there's no point in lying to you, is there? I used that as an excuse to be alone. I need time to work all this shit out.”

Well, at least he was being honest with her although his voice sounded... strained like he was still holding himself back. She wanted to help him, get him to open up to her. There was nothing worse than feeling like you're alone.

"Why don't you come down and talk with me for a bit? I want to help you."

"No thanks. I'm not ready to talk about it just yet. I’d rather just… be alone with my thoughts." He said despondently.

"Dorian is worried about you. _I’m_ worried about you. I understand that this is hurting you, but shutting yourself away from everyone can't help."

"You don't know that. Maybe it will."

His voice was barely above a whisper, so quiet Gwyn had almost missed it.

"That's ridiculous. And yes, I do know. I spent more time than I'd care to remember keeping myself quiet, I couldn't think of a reason to talk to anyone if they weren't you."

He finally turned his head to look at her, his expression pained. In that one look, she knew she’d gotten through to him, _finally_.

“Celeste told me you were the same, that you hardly talked to anyone."

“It didn’t start off that way,” he said, sitting up slightly to rest on his arm, “The day after you were gone they were all acting like nothing was wrong, I followed Father around for the entire day just asking him where you were or when you’d be coming home. It ended when he had me locked in our room for 'making too much of a fuss'.” he scoffed cynically

She couldn't decide which was sadder; Julien going through such a terrible ordeal or the fact her Father's actions didn't surprise her in the least. He'd always been hard on all of them, but it hurt to think no one other than Julien mourned her loss, she didn't want to believe it.

Julien took her contemplative silence as a queue to continue. "Mother would take me out shopping with her or go out into the garden with me when I got too forlorn, but she'd never answer any of my questions either, not until a few years later anyway, but by then I'd already figured everything out. Celeste and Andre were always too preoccupied so… after a while I just gave up trying," He said with a shrug as he lay back down, "I wanted to go with you, Gwyn. I'd pray so hard, asking the Maker or Andraste or _anyone_ to make me a mage too so I could escape and be with you. But all I got was a sore throat."

"Funny, I used to pray for the opposite. I would ask Andraste to take my magic back and give it to someone else who needed it or if the Maker had made a mistake; I stopped after one of the Templars told me Andraste wouldn't listen to a mage's prayers." She laughed bitterly, "I refused to imagine you could be just as miserable, Jules. I thought you'd have been ok with the others but… I was clearly very wrong."

He looked down at her in a mirror of herself, scared they wouldn't fit back together as they did at birth, scared something had broken irreversibly. The idea of not trying at all was just unthinkable however. "Julien, could we talk about what happened in the Fade? It obviously brought up a lot of painful memories, it'll help if you get it off your chest"

When his expression changed to a stony mask, she almost immediately regretted her words. He turned his gaze away from her, visibly tense and then sunk backward into himself. Any progress she'd made with him evaporated in an instant.

"This isn't… Marlow wasn't… it's not something you can help with. Not now at least. I just need some time alone to process... Everything. You _pushing_ me isn't going to help!" He barked at the end, visibly flinching at the sound of his own voice. He clearly had not been expecting that to come out as scathing as it had. “Just leave me be, I’m not good company right now. Go back up the ladder and celebrate with the others.”

For a long moment Gwyn felt a strange hollowness in her chest, as if she was suddenly trapped in a vacuum. It held her in place and tore away words she might have spoken from her mind before they were even allowed to be articulated. Julien was almost a stranger to her now, like Celeste pretty much was too. The only person from her family she could for certain say she knew was Andre.

Julien's dream was all so confronting. The man he'd been cowering behind was blatantly threatening and twisting him, wouldn't that kind have behaviour been obviously demonic? Strangely though Julien had responded to him consistently, as if it were something he was used to. Did Julien change so much from the argumentative, wheedly prankster she'd been born with?

"Okay." she finally sighed, destitute of hope that he would change his mind for her.

She stood there for a little longer, letting the silence stretch on until it was too uncomfortable to bear any longer. As she mounted the ladder, she threw a glance over her shoulder desperately hoping he’d say something, _anything_ , but all she found was his back facing her as he rolled onto his side. She continued upward, unsure of exactly what she’d been expecting.

* * *

A chilly breeze whipped at the sails as they were pulled taught, opened once more to catch the southern streams of wind as it pushed the ship with fervour out of reach of the storm's domain. Feit's fingers were chilled to the bone but the thick fleece blanket kept him warm enough to venture out along the deck. Andre and Aphel where sat together against the wall of the officer's quarters, both looking discernibly penitent and sombre. Solas was stood to the side, just as quiet and Feit almost wondered if he would be interrupting something serious.

"What's the hey-ho out here?" Feit chimed, trying to bring some cheer with him.

Aphel did look up and smile, waving him over, but Andre remained unmoved; his elbows resting on his thighs as he tipped his head down between his legs. He didn't look very well at all.

"Hello Feit" Solas greeted him.

"Hi, Solas. Is your head cold?"

Aphel chuckled and smiled, causing Feit to as well.

"Yes. My hat has gone missing."

"You left it behind." Aphel remarked.

"Ah. I'm getting a bit forgetful it seems."

It was odd, Feit was usually one to be so talkative, yet he felt about as social as Andre, standing awkwardly between his sister who had been insane and tried to kill him, and her boyfriend who was about as unreadable as any book. Solas looked as though he knew more than everyone, but sometimes he seemed so out of place like a dwarf just coming to the surface.

"Have you ever been to the Kirkwall Solas?" he ended up asking spontaneously.

"Yes. Though I have not seen the city as it stands now; Varric's book brings up many questions for me so I am looking forward to dreaming there."

"It sounds like a tumultuous area of the fade." Aphel commented. "Be careful when we get close."

"As always. Cole may also have a difficult time there."

"Cole?" Feit queried.

"He's mostly a spirit." Solas told him. "A spirit of empathy. I'll do my best to watch out for him when we arrive."

"It would kill me if something happened to him." Aphel grabbed solas' hand and pressed it to her cheek.

"I never knew that." Feit said with a large amount of wonder. "Is that why I can feel what he's feeling?"

Aphel and Solas both stared at him with looks that made him want to reverse what he'd said.

"I can't read his mind or anything. b-but, anyway is Andre okay? He looks awful."

Andre huffed a little and waved his hand. "No, I'm fine."

"Yeah, he's not." Aphel shook her head and crossed her arms. "He isn't throwing up anymore but that is barely okay. I said he should talk to Gwyn but he's refused."

"I am listening you know." Andre grumbled, again without moving.

"If he wishes to remain in his state of discomfort then there is no point pushing it." Solas stated.

"Did I not just say-"

"She is a great healer." Feit gleamed "Julien probably would have died if she couldn't fix up his lung, and she fixed my broken rib too. Can all mages do that?"

"What?!" Andre blurt out, raising his head suddenly, his expression more serious than usual. "Julien almost _died_? How? When? What happened? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"He's been preoccupied, we all have, not to mention it's a little…" Aphel pinched the bridge of her nose "It's complicated."

Feit realised what she meant a few seconds later, Gwyn had been possessed and it was himself who'd been holding the bow. Dirt and dust, he wished he hadn't been so hasty trying to get Andre to Gwyn. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Andre!" Aphel butt in, cutting off Feit from his confession. "You should talk to Julien himself and Gwyn about that. I don't want to say something they might rather tell you themselves."

"Listen you three, I've had about enough of people keeping things from me! Especially Julien! I deserve an explanation." Andre fumed.

Placing a gentle hand on Andre's shoulder, Feit tried to calm him but decided to trust Aphel for now, at least until she was gone anyway.

"Ask him; it's not our place." Aphel reaffirmed.

Andre gave Feit a desperate look, seeing as he was getting nothing from Aphel, but the elf only bit his lip with an anxious expression.

"Fine, but I swear I'll get an answer from someone."

Aphel nodded and Andre got up to leave, swayed a little holding a hand to his mouth, then continued his strides down the hatch below deck.

"I really hope Julien just tells him." Feit plonked himself next to Aphel and balled his hands at his temples. "I hate keeping secrets."

A comfortable arm slung its way over his shoulders and he leant into Aphel's firm chest. "He'll understand it was an accident."

Sighing didn't help but Feit did so anyway.

"He's just protective of them, if he gets angry it's not your fault." she continued.

"He's-"

"He is a little irrational."

"-just like you."

"Like me?" Aphel's tone escalated suddenly. "How on earth is he like me?"

Solas was smiling from over her shoulder and it encouraged Feit to continue. So he counted off on his fingers;

"He's stubborn, he doesn't like people, he cares about his family so much that he drives them mad, he gets into fights a lot; you like to push people's buttons but Andre is just honest and says things that are kind of mean."

"Geez thanks Fey, you make me sound like a sociopath."

"Well you kind of are."

She gave him a not-so-soft punch to the arm that almost made him fall off his seat. "I'm not as bad as Cypress."

"At least she's obvious about it, you look too innocent." Feit giggled.

"It's part of my plan." Aphel settled him with an dramatically evil glare.

Things where silent for a few moments after that, Feit snuggled into his blanket again to keep his nose from running in the cold night air.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked

"Not anymore, it feels really nice out here in the breeze."

"Are you going back home after this?"

Solas' eyes moved swiftly to watch the siblings, it hadn't been brought up but he knew Aphel didn't want to think about leaving her brother, she'd practically jumped at the opportunity to stay longer, even when they both knew this mission to stabilize the Trevelyan family was reckless, not to mention hardly any of their business at the time. But Aphel did that, always found means to have her own way; carefully weighing all options and missing no opportunities. He loved it, but the tension of such a spider's web sometimes tore itself apart.

"Yes." she responded finally in the barest whisper.

"We have responsibilities that cannot be ignored." Solas offered, wondering if he was trying to reassure Feit or convince Aphel.

"Could I go back with you?" Feit had his head resting on his arms over his drawn up knees. With the blanket covering him, he looked smaller than a child.

"You would want to?" Aphel sounded almost breathless with surprise.

"What? You think I want to keep getting chased around by Cypress? After you left Apple, she wouldn't let me alone!" His tone returned some of its playfulness despite the subject. "And it wasn't fun running away when there wasn't really a reason to go back."

"Fuck." Aphel wiped her eyes roughly. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Make me feel things."

"It's my talent." he teased. Getting Aphel to show her real side was as rare as a nug with fur.

"I'd be more than happy to try bringing you back with us." Aphel smiled.

Unable to pace with the rocking of the ship, Solas kept his back against the wall while he spoke. "I'll work on adjusting our calculations Feit, but remember this is almost certainly a one way journey."

"I know, I've thought about it and I want to go." Feit tried his best to show them he was serious.

* * *

Julien found himself awoken rather abruptly as he felt the hard surface beneath him suddenly disappear and then, after a few moments of falling, reappear with a loud crack. He let out a shriek as a sharp pain from his shoulder ripped through his torso, rendering him practically motionless as he cradled himself and cursed inwardly for falling asleep in such a precarious position. How long had he’d been up there on the crates? He’d not intended to stay here for the entire night, only long enough to clear his head. Exhaustion must have gotten the better of him and his rotten luck reared its head in the form of bodily injury.

After the throbbing died down a little, he apprehensively shrugged off his coat to check the damage. It appeared as though he hadn’t dislocated it again but it did look to be swelling up brilliantly. With a sigh he pulled his clothes back on and carefully climbed down off the crate and onto the floor. He figured the best course of action was to just go to bed, or rather hammock, and hope it wasn’t too painful in the morning. The last thing he wanted to do was explain to everyone he’d fallen off a completely stationary object and hurt himself _again_.

Finding his way back to the sleeping quarters was easy enough, he just followed the sound of the loud snoring, stepping carefully along with the sways of the ship down the tight stairway leaping down the last step. Despite the length of the ship, the room was as cramped and claustrophobic as a brothel on a Tuesday. It was sectioned off into countless alcoves that housed either two hammocks abreast of each other or various crates of cargo. Julien began to regret his decision to not go to sleep early as he strode down the tight walkway, finding not a single empty hammock to claim. Was he seriously going to have to sleep on the floor? Could this night even get any worse? He came to the third to last alcove and found himself thinking yes, yes it _could_ get worse.    

"Andre? … what are you doing?" he called out quietly, watching his brother place both his palms on the far hammock, shaking as he tested his weight on it.

"Don't talk to me, I'm trying to get this right." Andre replied, evidently not registering who was actually speaking to him.

Julien simply crossed his arms and leaned against the support beam, watching Andre struggle a little longer. It was pretty clear he'd never even sat in a hammock before, he looked completely hopeless. In the end Julien decided to just wait him out and see what happened as watching him fail horribly was always a mood lifter. After a solid minute or so, Andre gave up the arm tactic and attempted to hook his leg onto it, only succeeding in losing his balance and falling, his limbs becoming all a-tangle in the fabric. 

It was quite possibly one of the funniest things Julien had ever witnessed. The frustrated look on his face accompanied by the grunting and futile struggling against his cloth prison just filled Julien with such mirth he couldn’t hold in the gut-busting laughter that exploded from his mouth.

“Holy shit! Andre! You-” he stammered, desperately trying to make some sort of witty comment but failing horribly to contain himself.

Andre’s flung his head back, presumably to shoot a glare his way, and smacked it against the floor, only adding to Julien’s amusement.

“Ugh! Of course it had to be _you_!” Andre snapped, his cheeks red with embarrassment, “Just shut up and help! I don’t know what my legs are doing right now"

“Nah, I think I’ll just let you sort yourself out,” Julien replied, finally able to suppress his laughter enough to get out a full sentence.

Keeping eye contact with him, Julien shot him a smirk and jumped into his own hammock effortlessly. "Oh boy. This sure is comfy. I could just-” he paused to fake-yawn, “go straight to sleep."

The struggling noises continued as Julien snuggled down, accompanied by unintelligible grunts from Andre which would be numerous curses of frustration if it were anyone else.

"Could you die quietly please?" Julien mumbled sleepily.

It was no surprise that Andre seemed to get even louder despite the fact that most of the people down here were trying to sleep, so when he backed into Julien's hammock for the fifth time Julien rolled out with a clear notion to just get the torture over with.

"Alright, I'll boost you, just shut up." Julien whispered and got down to a knee, untangling the ensnared leg.

Surprisingly there was no argument from his elder brother who swiftly took advantage of the help and rolled into his hammock.

"Dre, your butt weighs a tonne." Julien wheezed.

Andre huffed, quickly settling into the foetal position facing away from Julien who shrugged and returned to his own, happy that he could at last get some sleep.

"You never told me you got shot in the lung." Andre said softly.

Julien scoffed. Was he really going to bring this up _now_ of all times? Had toady’s events not been drama enough for him? Julien was seriously not in the mood to have this conversation right now, he was ready to just get the day over and done with already. The things he would do for a private room right now!

"Yeah well you never told me you had a massive, disgusting crush on my ambassador so we’re as bad as each other. Go to sleep.” He grumbled.

Andre spluttered and coughed loudly and for a second Julien thought he would flip back out of the hammock.

"That has got nothing to do with this! You nearly drowned in your own blood, I'd say that’s a more important issue than… _that_!" Andre spluttered, his embarrassment very, _very_ evident in his tone, “Why didn’t you tell me, Julien?”

Oh Maker, he really was going to push this wasn’t he? Julien contemplated just getting up and going back to the crate. The hard, abrasive texture of the wood was more pleasant than his brother’s constant badgering.

"Because you overreact to everything? How was I supposed to bring that up anyway? Oh Andre, you won’t _believe_ the week I’ve been having! Our dear sister got possessed by a demon and coerced our Father into trying to murder one of my friends with the very red lyrium that is now consuming him! Oh and on top of that, she also forced Feit to shoot me right in the back! Do you want to see the arrow scar?” he said sarcastically, venom dripping from every word.

The silence stretched on for more than a few minutes and Julien began to regret his little outburst. How much did he actually know? Did he just throw both Gwyn and Feit to the wolves?

“What? That is so much worse than Celeste made it sound!” Andre finally said, squirming around in the hammock to face Julien, “How else am I supposed to react to _that_?! How do you know Gwyn still isn’t possessed right now? That’s not something you can just hand-wave away! And _Feit_. I’m going to have to have a long conversation with him!”

 _Shit_. Oh Maker, he had to do some damage control here! Curse his big mouth!

“Relax! Celeste and Solas saved her with some Litany of Adralla or whatever, then Gwyn healed me up. What happened with Feit was an accident, he didn’t do it intentionally Everyone survived; it was an issue that was solved long before you even showed up at Skyhold so what’s the big deal? I’ve been in way worse situations anyway, you know how many demons I come into contact with on a daily basis? Rifts are way worse than that."

Andre did not look convinced. He simply raised a brow.

"You are unbelievable. _What’s the big deal?_ Do you realise how serious that sounds? Have you not followed up on any of this? I’m fairly sure the Litany doesn’t even dispel possession, you idiot! How could _you_ of all people possibly be running the Inquisition, the world has gone mad!"

That last comment hit Julien like a brick to the face. He clearly still thought he was an irresponsible, useless child then. He didn’t even know a fraction of what he’d been through in the last year alone! Julien was beyond the point of just being upset, he was _mad_. What did that big stupid bogfisher even know about possession anyway? It worked. Gwyn was back to normal, everything was fine!

"Oh get over yourself Andre! I have the mark on my hand, I seal the world-breaking rifts, I fight the demons, I have to fix everyone’s fucking problems and for once in my life I'm doing something better than you, without your help! Back off. I know what I’m doing!"

Andre looked genuinely taken aback by Julien’s words. He just lay there with an unreadable expression on his face. Was that… sympathy? Pity? The anger left him just as fast as it had come, now he was just exhausted.

"Just…go to sleep. I can't keep arguing with you about this." He said, closing his eyes tightly, too tired to even roll over.

"But you're in so much danger Julien. Maker, I wish I could just…"

Ugh! Could he not just leave things alone?

"Just what?" Julien said in a very clearly exasperated tone. If Andre kept this up he’d just have to knock him over the head with something to shut him up.

"Nothing. I don't know. I don't know. I just want to keep everyone together." He said vaguely.

"Stop trying to micro-manage everyone, you control freak."

There was sweet, blissful silence for a few moments longer and Julien was almost asleep until Andre piped up once more, “I’m not a control freak.”

"Fine, you’re a naggy old hag. Go to sleep." Julien murmured angrily.

"Baby."

“Fat tusket.”

“Whiny little brat”

"Butterball"

"It’s not butter! It’s strawberry blonde!"

"Pfft yeah whatever, did _Josie_ tell you that?" Julien said, letting his voice take on a childish quality.

Suddenly there was a sharp pain in his side and Julien found himself falling face first onto the hard floor boards.  Did Andre just kick him out of his hammock? No, he wouldn’t have. He shot a glance over his shoulder as he lifted himself from the ground and onto his butt. Judging by the satisfied smirk on the other’s face, it was clear he had actually done it. Oh it was _on_. Julien swivelled around to face him and raised a leg with the intent to kick him but before it connected a better idea came to him.

There was no way Julien could beat Andre in a fair fight, the older man was simply too strong for that. The key phrase here was _fair fight_. He used his foot to gently nudge him, just enough to get the hammock swinging back and forth, just enough to get Andre looking a little green.

“Julien…” Andre warned, face going a little pale.

“What? Just trying to gently rock you to sleep, dearest brother,” Julien smarmed, nudging him a little harder.

“I _will_ throw up on you” he warned once more, hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Rogue wave!” Julien suddenly shouted and planted a hard, powerful kick right to Andre’s side, causing him to flip out of the hammock and land heavily onto the floor.

A loud angry growl erupted from Andre and before Julien could react, he was on him, whacking and punching, trying to hurt any and all exposed weak points. Julien yelped and began assaulting him back, kicking and slapping and biting at any limbs that came near him.

It was over fairly quickly when Celeste and Blackwall pulled them away from each other.

“You two, shut the fuck up!” Celeste snapped. She was not one to be trifled with on a normal day, but when woken up…. Julien would rather face down a high dragon then get in her way.

“He started it!” Andre snapped, struggling against Blackwall’s firm grip.

“No, you both started it! And I’m ending it now, Andre – you’re sleeping up on deck! Take a blanket and get out!” she hissed, giving him a look that could kill, “And Julien! You are going to get your ass back into that hammock and if I hear so much as a _murmur_ out of you, a few bruises will be the least of your concerns!”


	34. Living lightly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ripples  
> 2/6

Leaning against the rail with a steaming hot mug of lemon tea clasped in her hands, Gwyneth watched the sea lap gently against the side of the ship. It was certainly a nice change from the storm of the night before, the rocking had almost had her hurling over the side alongside Andre. Speaking of Andre, he had woken her fairly early, claiming that coming up for some fresh air before the others woke would do her some good. Gwyn, and her endless yawns and stinging eyes, did not agree. It was true that the early bird got the worm, but the late mouse got the cheese. She wanted to curl back up in her hammock for a few more hours but spending some time alone with Andre was too rare an opportunity to miss, even if it was him cavilling over her possession. Almost possession? She still had no idea what to make of Fortitude’s comment back in the fade, perhaps she could ask Solas later on.

“So you’re sure you’re alright then?” he asked for the umpteenth time, staring out into the ocean.

With a sigh she wrapped an arm around his shoulders in a half-hug. She was… happy he was talking to her about this. Nobody else had really mentioned it or even asked if she was ok since the whole ordeal went down. It was as if they’d blocked if from their memories entirely. It was a traumatic experience for her, yes, but it was also foolish to forget it had happened altogether, at least knowing Templars were with the group was a comforting hand of cool ice against her burnt spirit.

“Yes, I’m fine Dre. It won’t happen again, I promi-”

“You can’t be _sure_ though,” he interrupted her with severely knitted brows, an expression that drew the deep scar closer to his eye, “Please let me get one of the Templars to watch over you while we’re in Kirkwall… If something were to happen to you, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

She gave his arm a comforting squeeze.

“Ok fine. But I’m only doing it for you,” she said, putting on fake exasperation. 

Before Andre could say anything there was the sound of footsteps creaking up the stairway and when Gwyn turned around to investigate the noise, she saw Celeste dragging her twin up the stairs by the ear like a mother cat controlling her kittens. She did not look happy.

Before she could do any more damage, Julien slipped from her grip, groaning as he wandered over to lean heavily on the railing next to Gwyn. He was  _seriously_ regretting making such a fuss last night. He’d not been able to sleep after Celeste had returned to her bunk and those horrible, lingering thoughts had haunted him for the remainder of the night. He guessed he was working with about two hours sleep here, not including the unrestful bout on the crates. Being tucked into a blanket and hidden from everything sounded way better than continuing on but he knew Celeste wouldn’t let him be.

“Good to see everyone’s up and ready for the day.” Celeste said, voice dripping with venom as she shot glances at both her brothers.

“Can we just... not...” Julien trailed off, leaning over the railing.

Andre pushed away from his place and stood upright. “Get over it. A day’s work will do you some good.”

“But we’re just patrons! We don’t need to work!” he whined back.

“And with so many of us, it would be rude not to lend more of a hand.” Andre growled in response.

Isabella’s laugh sounded out and their attention was drawn upward to the wheel of the ship. She handed to over to one of the crewmen and swaggered up to them, letting her hand rest on her hip, drawing attention to the dusky exposed skin there. 

“And wouldn’t I just adore seeing you working in the steamy sun, without those pesky shirts.”

Andre blushed and pursed his lips. “I feel that would be inappropriate…”

She sighed but smiled, letting her gaze drip over him. “At least we’ve gotten you out of your armour anyhow.”

He cleared his throat uncomfortably and crossed his arms over his chest. Yes. He was _well_ aware of the armour he'd lost, it almost had him locking himself up in his room for the remainder of the trip. But he couldn't shirk his obligations... and he’d also really needed to speak to Gwyn.

Celeste stumbled backwards from the balustrade and placed a firm hand on her brother's shoulder, concern written on her face. She knew he had an unhealthy dependency on the metal he garbed himself in and feared its absence would result in panic attacks. Rosehip tea was not something that would be easy to come by in the middle of the Waking Sea.

“Dre, what _did_ happen to your armour? Are you alright?”

“It’s not important. I’ll go help that old man with the load he’s carrying,” tuning back to the row of asses he let his frustration be heard “I suggest you all should find yourself useful too.” He walked away as upright as he could.

“Bit of a party pooper that one?” Isabella raised a fine eyebrow. “I thought the Templars would be worse…”

"It's just his way, he's really quite-”

“An asshole?” Julien cut Celeste off with a scowl, “He was born an asshole and he'll die an asshole. Don't mind him, Captain. He always act's like he's woken up with a beehive in his bed.”

Celeste frowned at Julien as she rested her hands on her hips, giving him an exasperated look. So he hadn't grown up at all in his time away, at least with his attitude towards Andre. She'd hoped his initial snippiness towards the man had been stress-related but it appeared she was wrong in assuming that. Would those two never stop trying to get at one another? Julien just gave her an innocent smile and a shrug before returning to look out at the sea contemptuously.

Rubbing her temples in a desperate bid to rid the pounding headache she had, she turned back to Isabela and continued, “What I was _going_ to say was he's really quite sweet and dedicated once you get to know him. Is there anything you would like us to help with, specifically?”

“Hey, if you’re up for some rigging or cleaning then Hark or Thorn can show you where they can best use the help. Just don't overdo yourselves, It would be rather pointless if you end up barfing over the floors you’re going to be scrubbing.”

Celeste screwed up her face at the thought of working under _Tourn Fucking Selbrech_ , then at the Captain's snide remark towards her nobility and held back the greatest urge to argue the assumption that she couldn't work hard when required. _Actions, not words,_ her Father repeated in her head.

“I see… we’ll find a way to keep ourselves busy. Julien here will help with the swabbing, right Jules?” she said, a satisfied smirk made its way onto her face.

Captain Isabela just laughed and with a dismissive wave of her hand returned to the wheel. With a confused look, Celeste whipped back around to find him simply gone. There was no trace of him anywhere!

“Where is he?”

Gwyn offered her a bewildered shrug. Apparently he was still quite talented when it came to sneaking off.  With a sigh of resignation, Celeste returned to her place next to Gwyn, grumbling all the way.

“Why are you so mad at them, Sis?” Gwyn asked quietly.

"Did you not hear them last night? They were slapping and kicking at each other, making such a racket I ended up having to separate them before the crew threw them overboard! Seriously, I feel like their bloody mother sometimes. They never got older than twelve, I swear to the Maker," Celeste said, the exasperation quite clear in her voice.

Feit, who was tangled up in the rigging just overhead, laughed. "How old are they now?"

Gwyn looked upward and laughed at his antics. How long had he been up there, listening to them? A thought suddenly occurred to her, causing her to gasp slightly and turn away from the edge. "Wait! What's the date today?"

"Thirteenth of Molioris," Dorian said, ascending the stairs with a glass of wine in one hand an armful of couple of pillows under the other.

"The thirteenth already? And that is the Tevene word for Bloomingtide I assume?" Celeste started.

"Yes, that's right." He swept his gaze across the deck, then tossed the pillows on a chosen spot in full sun. "Don't suppose any one of you have seen Julien this morning?"

"He just ran off; probably gone back to sleep after last night's _encounter_ ," Celeste grumbled in reply, "Feel free to go wake the little blighter up. Preferably with a horn or some other ear-bleedingly loud trumpet."

"Are you sure? He's usually up before the sun," he said, taking a sip from his glass. Sleeping in certainly didn't sound like Julien at all in Dorian's mind - especially with strange people around, no matter how tired he was. Knowing him, he was probably sitting up high somewhere out of the way or hiding in between crates in the hold. Dorian let out a deep sigh. If he didn't show up soon, he'd have to go hunt him down. There were obviously things that needed to be discussed, but searching a musty and dank old boat would be far from pleasant.

Hark hopped up the steps, carrying more pillows in his arms with a determined look on his face. With a little huff, he dumped them onto the pile with the others and turned to Dorian, palm up, arm outstretched. When Dorian's coins dropped into his hand, he scurried off back down into the bowels of the ship.

"Well, if any of you find him tell him to come join me" he said, plopping down onto the bed of pillows, closing his eyes and letting the sun soak into his skin.

"We've got to do something for tomorrow," Gwyn said excitedly, "It's Andre's Birthday!"

Celeste scrunched up her nose and grumbled, "You're right, I hate missing it. Even if he _has_ been a bit of a shit lately."

"We can make a cake!" Feit gleamed down as brightly as the sun. "I used to get them from Av when I had birthdays in the city."

"Yes! Genius! We could decorate it with frosting and fruits and-"

"Woah, slow down there. We are are on a ship in the middle of the ocean. Where are you going to find the ingredients for this?"

Gwyn looked hopefully to Feit who shrugged. "Oh, dang, I suppose some nicely arranged dried fruits might work."

A long sigh from Celeste punctured the end of Gwyn's sad statement, causing them to turn to her questioningly.

"There may be another option. Just give me some time to… negotiate with someone."

She walked down the line of the ship into the distance, catching the eyes of almost every shipmate Celeste stepped by, until she moved beyond their line of sight. 

Stopping to lean against a crate, she paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. She couldn’t believe she was actually going to do this. Had she any other option, she would take it in a heartbeat but she was desperate and they did not have the luxury of time. Gwyn had her heart set on this, she’d looked so excited. How could she let her down? With once last annoyed sigh she straightened herself up and stepped around the crate, casually leaning against the edge.

“Hey Torun,” she said, flashing him what she hoped was a convincing smile.

He squinted up at her, raising a hand to shade his eyes from the sun. Torun looked utterly languorous under the unending rays as he sweated away, repairing nets and stripping barnacle covered ropes. His usually bouncy hair was wet enough that in places it even stuck to his golden skin. His loose shirt was designed to keep him comfortable in such environments and hung open to expose his collarbones to the top of his sea-sculpted chest. Even though she practically hated him, she couldn’t help but admire the appearance of a working man.

“Morning.” He panted in reply and grinned, showing off his dimple. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Rolling her eyes at his comment, she clicked her tongue in annoyance and crossed her arms over her chest. Ok, so he truly had been busy this past year or however long it had been. To see him actually physically working like this… perhaps she’d misjudged him. She felt a little bad about mocking him the day before but not enough to actually apologize to him. She could practically picture the stupid, smarmy grin on his face if she did!

He cleared his throat suddenly and, much to her disdain, she realized she’d just been standing there and staring at him while she’d been lost in her thoughts.

“Yes, well… I… ugh!” she groaned loudly. She couldn’t do this! Asking him for help? Blegh!

“No, no no, I can’t do this.” She began stomping back away from him, until she remembered Gwyn’s sad look at the thought of not getting Andre his cake. Making her turn on her heel, walk back up to him again and tap her foot with irritation.

Torun tilted his head in confusion. “What is it?” he asked this time.

She scrunched up her nose and made a few more groaning noises before finally sighing deeply.

“I… Well…” she groaned again. This was one of the most difficult things she’d had done in her entire life, “I… I… require a favour” she finally managed to mumble out.

A half smile from him and he was standing as well, just within her personal space, where he knew he could gain a millimetre of diplomatic ground from her. 

“That’s just gravy, how may I assist you? Need some kinks in your back straightened?”

“No, no, nothing that entails any physical contact,” she said, shifting her hands to her hips.

She knew what he was doing, trying to make her uncomfortable with his proximity. Well, she wasn’t going to back away, not even a single step! She was a better negotiator than he was by far, she’d get what she need from him and be on her way as quickly as she could.

“I need ingredients for a cake.”

“Uh, you’re not trying to actually cook something, are you?” He blinked.

She shot a glare in his direction.

“What, you don’t think I can cook?”

He raised his hands defensively, “I shan’t say a word. What exactly does this cake need? Flour, butter? I don’t think we have butter but there’s a good sunflower oil. If you write down a list I’ll see what I can find.” 

Annoyingly, despite his easy surrender, Celeste knew what he would say next and waited for his counter.

“You want to use the kitchens though, that’s the hard part. It’ll take some work to convince Fierro to let someone besides himself or the Captain to use it.” Torun brushed some curls behind an ear.

She groaned a little. This was a lot more complicated than she thought it would be. Why couldn’t anything in her life be easy? And why was he being so amenable? What’s his angle?

“How much is this going to cost me, exactly?” she asked carefully. There was no way he would just do all this work for free.

“Ah!” his eyes lit up “the prize; well besides my doing this from the goodness of my heart, I’ll only need one teensy weensy, tiny teeny little thing. And it can’t be forgotten, no matter what.” his little smile kept up the façade for as long as he could.

She suddenly felt very uneasy. Oh Maker, what had she gotten herself into?

“Just tell me what it is,” she said, trying to hide how apprehensive she was.

Torun felt his smile become embarrassingly wide as it always did when he was nervous. “I need you to check in on my little sister. Back in Ansburg.” he shifted his weight so he could rest one arm on his hip while the other kept his eyes shaded. “Kitty is a much better noble than I ever was, so I’m happy she’s finally getting the title she deserves. I don’t know how she’ll react to it but I just want her to know I’m okay and happy. That’s it really.”

Celeste was taken aback by his genuine expression. That was actually really sweet. She had been expecting… well she wasn’t entirely sure but it certainly wasn’t that. For once, she smiled genuinely at him.

“Of course, I’ll do that once all my own family affairs are settled. Is there a letter or anything you’d like me to give her?”

“Err, no. I don’t think there is anything I could say to her that wouldn’t sound pretentious. But the captain does little things for the Inquisition sometimes so If she wants to contact me you can tell her to ask Ser Tethras to send forward any letters to Isabella.”

“That sounds… awfully convoluted.”

Torun flicked his fringe again and cleared his throat. “I’m hardly going to tell her I’m a pirate for Andraste’s sake.”

“You realise that being a pirate involves  _actual_ pirating? At best you’re a smuggler.”

“I help save people! And no one can fix the ropes like I do. I’ve got the hands for it.”

“Yes, lovely delicate hands.”

“You’re lucky my hands are so delicate or I wouldn’t be able to help you.” Torun raised them as if he were a man on display and despite their callousness, they were rather beautiful and mark-free. Even the nails were unchipped and buffed.

“How in Thedas…” Celeste balked.

“My secret. Come back with a list and I’ll get you what you need.”

With a nod, she turned and left him to his work. To be perfectly honest, Celeste had no idea what went into a cake, she’d never cooked anything successfully in her entire life. She hoped either Gwyn or Feit knew, or else they’d have to make several educated guesses.

When she returned to the others, she noted Dorian had stripped down considerably since she’d left, probably to get the most of the sun while it was out. How was it his wine glass was _still_ full? She didn’t see a bottle anywhere. Was someone bringing it up for him? What she would do for a glass right about now… She shook that irrelevant thought from her head and just reported her success to the others.

“So he’s going to handle everything for us? Wow, that’s nice of him,” Gwyn smiled.

“Yeah, well, stay away from him Gwyn. He’s too annoying for words,” Celeste said, rubbing her temples to cast off the headache she could feel coming on, “Just write down what we need so I can give it to him and be done with it.”

The two of them began talking so fast that Celeste could barely understand a word. After a few seconds she silenced them with a hand and ordered them to speak one at a time. Doing this, some semblance of a recipe was gleamed and put into Torun’s weirdly beautiful hands.

* * *

It got to about mid-day, just as lunch was about to be served, when Dorian decided he needed to go find Julien. The mention of food had gone around the ship and there still was no sign of him anywhere and Julien rarely skipped a meal (unless it was not to his tastes of course). Was he really going to avoid everyone for the entire day? How long was this going to go on for? He couldn’t let this fester any more than it already had. 

Starting in the sleeping hold, he reaffirmed what he’d already known; Julien was not sleeping. In fact he had carefully placed a broom and some sacks to appear as a sleeper that would fool anyone who didn’t look too closely.

Next he went to the ship’s mess area, petting some of the mousers that purred around his legs, letting him know they wouldn’t mind a treat or two. He hadn’t seen a cat in too long a time, so the tortoiseshell’s gentle nuzzling made him smile. 

Down he went, climbing into the cargo hold which was darker than night until a constant stream of static fizzed along a circuit from his pinky to his thumb and through his palm. He saw nothing at first besides crates held down with ties and nets, barrels strapped into place. 

Every inch of space was used without question which made some of the walkways barely the width of his chest and clearly not meant for human’s or even elves to attempt entry. His thoughts went to the cats and the little boy Hark, then to his own childhood and the forts and hide-holes he’d used to find to play in. Though growing up on a ship did not make him envious.

Gradually a deep moaning sound reached Dorian’s ears and turned him back around.

“Julien?” he whispered.

Instead of a person however, a large mottled cat, possibly larger than a dog, pounced onto a crate at a level with his face, its nose raised to sniff the air near his face. Dorian could see the cat was obviously blinded through some injury and it’s greying and matted appearance suggested it did not typically allow anyone near enough to groom the poor beast. 

Oddly though it licked it’s rough tongue over an electrified finger and mewled, purring, it turned and sauntered off, turning its head back after a while as though waiting for him to follow.

He ignored it and continued on through the maze, squeezing through tight spots and ducking under low hanging ropes. Julien had to be in here somewhere! The only other place he could possibly be was the crow’s nest and he certainly did not want to climb up all that way. He felt something grab onto his arm and he was yanked to the side close to two rather large crates with a gap big enough to squeeze in between.

“What th-”

“SHHH! It’ll hear you!” Julien whispered, pressing his hand over Dorian’s mouth, “It’s already gotten me twice!”

“What has? Have you been down here the entire time?” his voice mumbled through Julien's hand.

“That… _thing_. I don’t know what it was, I can’t really see that well down here, but it’s scratched me up pretty bad.” He said, voice barely above a whisper, “Come here.”

He pulled Dorian further in until they came out the other side into a small alcove behind the crates. It was so dark Dorian could barely see anything, but he could make out Julien’s form sliding down the wall until his butt met the floor.

“You don’t mean the cat, do you? It was rather amenable towards me.” He struggled a moment to adjust his position so he could actually breathe, “Oh that’s just brilliant! The Inquisitor - bested by a cat!” he said disdainfully, “Knowing my luck these scratch marks will get infected and I’ll have to have my arm cut off.”

There was the sound of fabric shuffling and Dorian could practically see Julien running his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit of his.

“Have you seen Celeste recently?” he said, dread very evident in his voice.

“Yes, she, Gwyn and that elf boy were talking about some birthday extravaganza for your brother, up on deck.”

“So she’s… not mad?”

“Mmm… yes, she is definitely mad. But, let’s go somewhere more comfortable to talk. I can barely breathe down here”

“No way! If she’s mad, I’m staying here!” Julien said, voice suddenly very panicked, “You don’t understand Dorian, she will not only destroy my body, but my mind and spirit too. I’ll just stay put until she cools down.”

“There are more important things than petty squabbles, Amatus. Come, you must be hungry. We can continue hiding later, perhaps some secluded room with a bed?”

Julien cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I’m not _that_ hun-” his stomach growled. Loudly. “Ok, fine. I’ll come with you, but if I see her I’m running! You underestimate her capacity for vengeance... one time I accidentally ate her pudding and she not only gave me the biggest bruise I’ve ever received but she also shaved my dog. Poor Spencer wasn’t even involved… just got caught in the crossfire.”

“You have a dog? Just grand.” Dorian rolled his eyes and began skirting his way back to the stairs.

“Maybe! He’s pretty old now, I’m not sure if he’s still alive,” Julien whispered back, walking quickly to catch up and hopefully avoid the beast.

Going back up was a fair bit quicker than going down, now they knew the way. Julien let out a quiet screech once they reached the top of the stairs and back into the light.

“Gyah! Maker! The light!” he cried out, covering his eyes with his cat-scratch covered hands, “I was _not_ prepared for that!”

“You’ve been down there far too long.” 

As they walked together, Dorian slipped a sly arm round Julien’s waist, feeling comforted that he had come out of hiding. Whether he realised it or not, Julien smiled a little too much when he lied.

By the time they’d made it into the hold, almost everyone was down there. They took their seats at the end of one of the tables, Julien slipped a little too eagerly out of Dorian’s grip. Their food came only in dried bread and fruits, both too sour to eat without a good amount of ale to wash it down.

Julien pouted slightly as he just sat staring at the untouched 'meal' in front of him. Surely they had something more... edible than this? Hell, even the manky broth from the day before was preferable. Celeste nudged his side painfully, making a quiet yelp escape his lips.

“Go on, eat something.” she whispered quietly enough so only the two of them could hear.

“I'm not eating  _this_! I'll wait until tonight!” He hissed quietly, elbowing her back.

"Don't be so picky!" 

"I'm not being picky! I'm just selective of what goes into my body! This'd be no good for my digestive system!"

"Do you even know how disrespectful that sounds?"

Their arguing was interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing.

Cullen shuffled nearer to them quietly. “Do either of you know if there is anything better to eat around here?” he raised his eyebrows hopefully. “I’m used to rations but this-” crumbling the bread dust in his hands “-is basically inedible.”

Julien shot Celeste a smarmy grin that screamed told-you-so. Her response was simply a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head. _Men_.

“I was just saying the same thing myself actually. I'm afraid this is all I know of, we didn't exactly stock up on food before we left port, I’m afraid. What I do for a bit of steak right now,” Julien said, sighing deeply at the thought.

“I actually have an idea to help you both on that front,” Celeste said, a thought springing to mind, “Why don't we just go fishing? We're in the middle of the Sea and surrounded by water, surely there's _something_ to catch out there?”

Overhearing Celeste’s suggestion, Torun chuckled and chugged back a good amount of swill.

“You’ll have better luck looking for Qunari treasure in this weather. Why don’t you lot get down below and look for some more booze. I’m going dry here.” He winked.

Clenching her jaw, Celeste gripped tightly to her plate in an attempt to stop herself from just punching him square in the jaw. Even though she understood him and his motivations better after their little conversation the day before, he was still being a pompous ass! She swore, if he so much as _winked_ at her again, this plate would end up lodged in his skull. Calming herself slightly, she forced a smile at him.

“ _Thorn_ , we are the paying guests here. Why don't _you_ pop down and get _us_ some more 'booze'? We're essentially paying your wages, perhaps you could actually earn some of it?” she said in a tone that was too-sweet.

“How disappointing, and I was going to share my secret stash with you.” Torun pouted dramatically.

She raised a brow at him, unimpressed. Was this his attempt at enticing her? He wasn't doing a very good job of it if it was.

“Oh? Secret stash? Does the Captain know you've been hoarding alcohol for yourself? Tell me, _Thorn_ , did you buy it yourself of have you been taking it from the stocks?” 

Torun grinned at her.

“Who said it was booze? I thought you three were looking for something better but, I can see where I’m not needed.”

Julien sat forward in his chair, suddenly very interested in what this man had to say.

“No! Er... I mean, please accept my apology on my sister's behalf, she had a terrible sleep last night you see and is quite grumpy, it seems,” he said, elbowing her roughly again, “Please, do elaborate. What are we talking about here exactly? If not booze then...?”

Torun tried not to giggle.

“You’ll have to figure that out, won't you? Who wants to join me?”

Celeste bit the inside of her cheek.

“I don't know, Jules this seems a bit... fishy to me,” she said, eyeing Torun suspiciously. She wasn't sure what it was, but his evasiveness was making the hairs on her neck stand on end.

“I'll do it!” Julien said, a little too eagerly. Even if it was just a slim chance, the thought of something more edible was enough to convince him.

Celeste groaned a little at her brother's desperation and gazed up at Cullen to see his reaction, hoping he would be more reasonable and cautious.

Torun smiled to hide his disappointment at Celeste’s refusal. Was it something he said? She always seemed to treat him as though he had the blight, wasn’t he always charming? Isn’t that what the noble ladies enjoyed so much? It  _did_ have them pawing at him so often he would leave their tea parties unusually exhausted. He was just going to have to accept Celeste was just not going to take a nibble at his bait.  He looked to her little brother, who’s eyes were sparkling at the mention of an alternative to the bread and fruit. Actually, they were quite similar in the eyes.

“Perfect. Try to be subtle.” 

“Pssh! Please, subtly is my middle name!” 

“No its not. It's the exact opposite actually,” Celeste dead-panned, clearly not happy with the situation at all.

Placing a hand on her shoulder gently, Cullen leaned forward to speak quietly to her.

“My Lady, say this isn't some trick, would you not like to eat something more nutritious than stale bread? There's no harm in just looking. And besides, if it came down to a fight, you could take him, no contest,” he said, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly at the end.   

Covering her mouth with her hand, she chuckled slightly, the image the Commander's words had conjured in her mind brought her no small measure of amusement. 

“Oh fine. But only because I can't let Julien go alone.”

Stretching his arms skyward and yawning slightly Julien rose from his chair, waving off Dorian who shot a side ward glace at him. 

“Just a bit tired.  I'm going to go take a nap, I think,” he said to his partner. He leant forward to peck him on the cheek but hesitated, stopping mid movement. After what he'd done in the Fade, he felt like he didn't have the right to even hug the man, let alone kiss him. So instead, he simply patted his shoulder with a semi-forced smile and left the room quickly before anything could be said.

* * *

The steps down to the galley were tight and dark, and swaying, the perfect equation for the unlucky two men who tripped magnificently over themselves while Celeste leapt over them in the dark. Torun shushed Julien’s moaning with a hand clumsily over his mouth till they pulled themselves up with a lamplight to impede any further falls.

“There might be someone down here, so try to be quiet.” Torun repeated.

“What do you mean there _might_ be somebody down here?! You don't kno-” Celeste hissed before being silenced by Julien's hand.

“SHHH!” he whispered sharply back at her before having his hand slapped away.

“No! This is ridiculous! They'd see our light anyway!”

“Celeste! Please just-”

The ship lurched once again, only this time they were prepared as three pairs of hands shot out to either side of the narrow path, cementing them in their places. The red haired woman released a sigh and just nodded in defeat. She was known to be a little irritable when she had a hangover, perhaps she was being too harsh on Torun, he was doing them a favour after all.

“Don’t worry about the light, they're blind.”

So they tracked between the cargo. Dingy and smelling more sour than the dried fruit, they came upon a cornice to hand the lamp beside another ladder downwards.

“Down again?” Julien whimpered while Torun gave him a refreshing toothy grin.

“Going down is the best part.”

“I'm not so sure about that... I don't want to be thrown off the ladder if the ship lurches again.”

Torun gestured encouragingly until Julien sighed and made for the ladder while Celeste squinted at Torun suspiciously. Was he? Did he just? No, surely it was her imagination. 'Going down is the best part'was far too obtuse and, well, just plain _terrible_ a pick-up line to have actually been intentional. Right? She'd be keeping an eye on him that was for sure.

In the lower cargo hold the thrashing of the waves had become more of a deep hollow groaning of wood being pressed and pushed along by the water. At the stern end between a few tied crates of something that could kill them if consumed was a thin gap. Torun plunged his arm between the warped wood and pulled out a parcel about the size and shape of a his forearm  and presented it to them.

"This beauty came all the way from the northern Antiva. It seems leather isn't the only thing they cure over there.”

Stomachs growled loudly as the sweet, smoky smell wafted from it. The promise of decent, eatable food had Julien's eyes all a-glow. He never thought a plain paper wrapped package could look so _so_ appealing. Gingerly reaching out to touch the parcel, he stroked it slightly, resisting the urge to just grab it and tear into it on the spot. He didn't know what was in there, but if the smell was anything to go by it would be delicious.

“Northern Antiva, huh? W-what is it?” if the tone in his voice didn't give away is anticipation and excitement, the slight drool in the corner of his mouth did.

Opening it up slowly revealed a roll of cured meat. The smoky scent instantly had them drooling and Celeste had to bat Julien’s hand away. Torun chuckled and took out his working knife to slice a few thick pieces, handing some to each.

“This should keep us going for a few days at least. Or is it too common for what you’re used to?” Torun jested. He’d been on the sea for more than a year now and although he lacked much by the way of luxury, he found little things seemed to feel enormously brighter than they had before, in that eternal gleam of trinkets and tortes. 

Immediately pulling the skinning knife from his belt, Julien cut off a small chunk and popped it into his mouth with fervour. A shiver rose up through him, emanating from his very core. This meat was _divine_. Quite possibly the best thing he'd ever tasted! Or it could be he hadn't had a decent meal in days and this was simply amazing by comparison. Either way he was relishing every moment of it, letting the smoky taste dance across his tongue.

Celeste rolled her eyes at him as she wrapped her portion in the silk scarf she'd been wearing around her neck. She'd save this for Cullen. He'd not seemed very well earlier, the dark circles under his eyes had grown deeper. Perhaps he wasn't sleeping well? And he _had_ been asking for better rations, hopefully it would perk him up a bit. After stowing it in her belt pouch, she glanced up at Torun. Ok. So maybe he _hadn't_ been planning anything. He could have just come out with it instead of stringing them along!

“Thank you, Torun. I-” she nudged an unresponsive Julien, “ _We_ are very grateful for this.”

“You’re so untrusting, I’ve been told I have an honest chin.”

She let out a small chuckle at that. _Honest Chin_. What did that even mean? Was there even such a thing as a deceitful chin? What an odd compliment he'd received.

“To be fair, you _were_ being quite evasive,” she said, nudging Julien once more to no avail.

“It’s called subtlety. You know? Would you have preferred I went on about my delicious meat package in front of everyone? I would have been swamped.” Okay, now he just couldn’t help teasing her. The squint in her eyes was beyond amusing. “I’d be happy to give that Commander of yours some too; we could give it to him together.” 

“What? Commander of _mine_? I'm not... W-we're not together,” she stuttered a little, his comment catching her slightly off-guard. Celeste was suddenly very, very glad Julien's attention was focused entirely on his food. She felt her face heat up with embarrassment and also a little ire.

Torun and Julien both rolled their eyes in unison.

“Oh play coy mistress all you please, I am not even bothering to rebut that lame attempt to hide those blushing cheeks. Have you notched him on your bedpost yet?” he chuckled and tucked the curls of his fringe behind his ear.

Notched him on her... She shook her head violently, casting away certain steamy thoughts that had invaded her mind.

'No! We're just friends!' She snipped, failing completely at her defence.

'She's kissed him before,' Julien smarmed, enjoying the rare opportunity to tease his sister as he popped more of the meat into his mouth.

Torun practically licked his lips at the juicy gossip Julien was handing him.

“My, my! A noble and a common soldier. Your father would swoon at this. Even more so than when you were caught with the minstrel at our engagement. Oh don’t give me that look, I would have done the same thing if I had been in your shoes.”

Flinching slightly, she averted her gaze at the mention of her father and the reminder of that rather unpleasant event. He'd been livid for days and that minstrel had been a fourth born son of an Ansburg noble! It was true, he would not approve of Cullen, no matter how well-mannered or successful a Commander he was - to him, he would still be a common farm boy who held only the land his livestock grazed upon. Not that his opinion really mattered now he'd be out of the picture soon. She wasn't about to drop that downer on everyone though.

'Ooooh yes, that scandal. I know.' She said sarcastically, waving her hands about theatrically. “Come on, you've had worse than Commander of the Inquisition's forces! I remember that scullery maid you had from Lord Renault's Name-day soirée!'

“She was so sweet, I can’t smell raw flour without thinking of her fondly.” Torun relaxed into the conversation.

She may have glanced over it but he had always wanted to bring up their engagement. He thought it was the moment his life would turn around; he’d been so elated. So when she’d confessed to his face behind the closed doors of his family’s ballroom not a moment before they were to be announced, that she’d rather marry a three legged goat, he was a touch disappointed to say the least. “I never forget the way they smell. Is there something you always remember?”

Not really wanting to hear this stuff about his sister, Julien cleared his throat awkwardly and shuffled toward the ladder with haste. Celeste let her mind ponder the question for a moment.

"The eyes... The eyes are what I remember most," she said quietly with a small smile on her face, "you can tell a lot about a person from the way they look at you"

“And how does this Commander look at you?”

"I-" she paused for a moment to collect her thoughts before she was reminded of who she was talking to here, “I haven’t put much thought into it. We are strictly _friends_ , Torun. Friends don’t… think about the way they look at each other like that.”

He scoffed at her poor deflecting.

“Well if you’re not interested in him, I’ll just have to make my move…”

She shot him a look that could kill and cracked her knuckled for emphasis.

“You touch him and I’ll break your fingers. He’s off limits.”

“Oh? So you do care then?” he smarmed, taking a little joy in her angrily muddled expression and gestures. He watched her eyes flick about while she searched for her words. He could get lost in those eyes.

“Alright, I think I’ve heard enough of this sick love-story. It’s so tired I’ll expect to doze off.” He yawned for effect as he rose and rewrapped the cured meat, stashing the remainder back in its place.

“I’ll try to stop teasing you, but I make no promises about this Cullen. It’s a nightmare trying to get a lay on a ship.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh we are both incredibly happy with the final result of this chapter, and there is more fun to come do not worry. Torun started as a spur of the moment excuse to create drama but he has turned into a little favourite of ours. WE LOVE HIM.
> 
> ~Kim & Kill


	35. Rouge Wave!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ripples  
> 3/6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome again chickadees! So sorry for taking so much longer, we do like to post a few times a month. But this chapter is longer by about 2.5k words than the average so we hope this makes a decent apology ^^
> 
> ~Kim & Kill <3

The next morning was a largely more sober than last night had been with most of the crew embracing the clear skies, while Andre embraced the railing once more. Isabella commanded the helm while Aphel quizzed her on her methods of navigation. It was fascinatingly close to the Aravels; following mapped stars but with more intricacy as no landmarks could be used to track progress. When the sun held itself more firmly above the horizon, others woke themselves from their swaying beds; Cullen and Celeste joined Aphel for a breakfast of more dried fruits and jerky, while Feit held his and more in several pockets as he climbed into the crow’s nest, joining Cole and Wyk to share the meal.

Down in the hold, Julien found himself hitting the deck hard after an attempted roll-over caused him to flip out of his hammock with a startled yelp. Hoping he didn't wake up the rest of the people the room, he slowly rose up from the ground, assessing his shoulder for damage but ultimately finding nothing. A sigh of relief escaped him. The sheer amount of times he'd found himself checking his damn shoulder these past few days was truly astounding. His stomach grumbled loudly and he groaned along with it. The thought of having to suffer through another sub-par breakfast was not an attractive one. The things he'd do for some scrambled eggs!

The memory of the day before came rushing back to him and he grabbed his bag quickly, a little too eager to fish out the hunk of meat Torun had given them. It still smelled and looked as delicious as he remembered it and carved off a little bit with his skinning knife, savoring the taste with an unintentionally loud moan of satisfaction. Maker's balls that tasted good! His mouth watered expectantly as he raised the next piece to his lips but the sound of someone clearing their throat form behind caused him to jump, the meat flying out of his hand as he did so.

“There are few things that could make you sound like that,” Dorian chuckled as he wrapped himself around Julien from behind, pressing their bare skin together, "couldn't have been me - I was still asleep."

Julien noted how fiery Dorian's body was, fascinatingly almost always much warmer than himself. He relaxed into the embrace but suddenly a flash of worry struck him and the closeness became a heartless betrayal on his part. What did he mean? Did he think others made him feel as Dorian does? Should he tell him about Torun taking Celeste and him to share a meal or would he feel betrayed for not being asked to join? If he kept his mouth shut would it be lying? His heart hammered as he fretted until Dorian’s hand manoeuvred and stole a piece of the cured meat, popping it quickly into his mouth. Julien turned his body and watched his expression.

Dorian sighed pleasingly and swallowed. “Delicious. I see why you made that lovely sound now.” He smiled a lazy smile that spoke of the early morning and weariness of travel.

Julien shuffled out of the mage's grasp slightly and cut off another piece of meat for him, flashing him what he hoped was a convincing smile. Dorian devoured it quickly and let out his own happy sounds. He should have brought Dorian with them, then he could have had his own bit. Not that he minded sharing! Maybe he should give him the entire thing? He probably needed it more than himself. Was he being selfish by hiding it from him up until now? Dorian had looked unhappy with last night's meal as well, what if he'd gone to bed on an empty stomach? Julien felt his anxiety start to rise again.

“That Torun guy has a stash of this down in the hold... H-here, take this bit and I’ll get another later!” he blurted out, unable to contain his guilt as he pushed the package into Dorian's hands.

“Oh,” Dorian murmured with a full mouth and raised eyebrows. Julien appeared strangely flighty and Dorian frowned and watched the rogue intently at he dressed, not failing to notice the forming scar on his back from where the arrow had struck and almost killed him. “Is something the matter?” Dorian asked when Julien turned back to face him, fully dressed.

Internally wincing, Julien avoided eye-contact, glancing at the doorway off to the side instead.

“I-No. Nothing's wrong. I'm fine. Are... are you alright?” he said, adjusting the gloves on his hands. There was nothing more he wanted to do right now than to just leave but that would just make things worse. He didn't want Dorian worrying about him although it seemed he'd already gone and done that.

“How could anything be wrong with you beside me?”

In response, he let out a deep, unsteady breath. He was afraid. Afraid if he told Dorian about all of his concerns, he'd realise how much emotional baggage he was carrying around and finally decide to leave him. Deep down he knew he was being irrational but his current frame of mind drowned all of that out. With a smile, Dorian grasped his hand and dragged him off to one of the empty rooms in the crew’s quarters, sealing the door with magic for privacy.

“Now I’ve got you,” he kissed into Julien’s neck.

Julien flinched away from his touch - unintentionally, Dorian noted, judging by the guilty look on his face.

“You caught me off guard,” he cleared his throat and avoided eye contact, instead looking about the room with faux interest, “not much space in here, huh?”

They were chest to chest, Dorian’s back against the door while the underside of Julien’s knees pressed against the edge of the small bed, definitely not a room meant for two.

“I’m not a blind man you know, nor do I wish for you to continue torturing yourself. I think we ought to talk.” Dorian gently manoeuvred them both till they sat side by side and he could appreciate Julien’s profile.

A look of discomfort washed over his features and his eyes flicked to Dorian for a split second before flicking back to the door. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, seemingly unable to put his thoughts into words and for a moment there, Dorian thought he was going to get up and leave.

“How… how can you even stand to be near me?” he finally said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I do try _not_ to be standing,” Dorian bit his lip at the ridiculous joke and waved his hand in a quick apology before Julien really did get up and leave. “Amatus. I adore you more than I can say, what has brought all of this on? It seems you’ve come to the conclusion that I feel otherwise, without even asking me. I really must question your references.”

Julien sat with his face in his hands for a few moments longer before he let out a shaky breath and moved them upward to run his fingers through his hair. He still wasn’t making eye contact.

“I let him hurt you, Dorian. I just stood there and did nothing. I’m so… _disgusted_ with myself,” his said, voice faltering a little at the end. 

“Marlow,” Dorian spoke the name with both hesitance and relief; as though he’d been holding onto it like a weight, hoping the damage from the fall would be repairable, “Or rather the demon.”

“They… are pretty much interchangeable,” Juilen said, pausing for a moment before adding, “Or rather _were_ interchangeable. I suppose he doesn’t really matter now.”

Julien’s eyes were brimming with a slight redness and Dorian, almost unconsciously, reached out a hand to stoke along the nape of his neck. He loved the feeling of the short hairs there, sweeping his thumb in the space behind his ear. 

“What do you mean ‘interchangeable’?”

"It was exactly like him, Dorian, down to the finest detail. The way he looked, the way he held himself, the way he spoke to me... It was all _him_. Up until he tried to murder you all, I was-" his voice wavered again, "I honestly couldn't tell the difference. I fight demons more often than I change my shirt, I should have known better.”

Dorian furrowed his brows. The words that were coming out of his mouth were... heartbreaking. Dorian was almost hesitant to dig any deeper, unsure of how he'd comfort him or what to even say. What  _could_  you say to someone who'd been through something like this? He’d only managed to arrive when the dream had gotten more serious and blood was on the verge of being spilt, and yet Julien still hadn’t been able to tell the difference? What kind of man had this Marlow been? Dorian’s blood simmered at the concept.

“Then… your relationship with the real man was much akin to what you experienced there?” Dorian managed to ask, though he could feel waves of emotions crashing furiously, unlike they had in a very long time. He was not the type to let things get to him. Yes he could argue and put up a fuss, usually show of controlled emotions being more effective than the real thing, but this? This was the love of his life for Maker’s sake. And now Julien looked blanched, memories must be surfacing because of that demon. It made Dorian want to go back there and slaughter it all over again.

“He wasn’t so violent or… _forceful_. I was never physically hurt, or not on purpose at least, but those things he said before you killed him…” he stopped mid-sentence. Judging from the distressed look on his face, he was going over the whole thing again in his mind, “I don’t think he meant it to come out like that, I just… said the wrong thing.”

“Nothing you could have said should…should allow him to speak to you like that!” Dorian could see how it was eating at him, and yet he still defended the person who had abused him, and that alone struck his heart with white hot iron. He took a breath to stop himself from breaking apart with it.

“We were drinking and alcohol always did make him a little… rowdy.” 

It took a mountain of self-restraint for Dorian to listen calmly, his imagination reeling back to every little nuance in Julien's behaviour he'd thought odd or surprising during their courting. At the beginning, Julien had always shown a sort of hesitance whenever they'd flirted, like he wasn't sure of himself or what they were doing. That had mostly stopped once Dorian had gotten frustrated with all the tip-toeing around and actually kissed him but he still showed the occasional measure of hesitance or self-doubt. What sort of things had this man said to him? What lies had he planted in his Amatus' head?

“That moment, the real version, not the dream; that was the day I told him I loved him.” It started coming out of Julien's mouth and now there was no stopping it. He wasn’t sure why he was telling Dorian, it was years ago, he was over it. Had been over it for just as long. Despite that however the words kept coming and Dorian became quiet.

“We'd been drinking pretty heavily, celebrating his new badge of office. I was so happy for him, we’d worked so hard and to finally see him sitting behind that desk… I thought it would be a good time to tell him. He laughed at me. He honestly thought I was joking and when I told him I wasn’t, something snapped. He said all those things, that I was a burden and- and self-absorbed and- he’d said it was easy to get his promotion because of my name, said that that was the only useful part of me besides my…” No, he couldn’t tell him, didn’t want to see Dorian looking sad when he said those words. He shouldn’t say it. He really shouldn't. “my body.”

"Malaum."

“Dorian?” Julien looked up at him, finally making eye contact. He seemed to hesitate for a moment longer before letting his hand rest on Dorian’s tensed arm, “Are you alright? I can tell this is upsetting you. Maybe we should stop talking about this…”

Dorian flicked his hand up to his face for a moment, as though doing so would stop Julien from seeing the utter outrage and dismay burning within him. There were no sufficient words to describe the utter contempt and animosity he felt towards that poor excuse for a man. How could anyone say something so horrible and disgusting like that to anyone, let alone somebody as precious and wonderful as Julien? Dorian reached over the small space to slide an arm over Julien’s shoulders and gently draw him closer, ending with his forehead tucked into the dip of Julien’s clavicle.

“I should be asking _you_ that. This past day you’ve been fretting over whether I hated you because a demon took the form of an abusive partner and tricked you? I can’t imagine half of what that must have been like but I promise I want nothing more than to never let you go right now.”

“Abusive? N-no it… it wasn't like that. He... he didn't hit me or anything," Julien stammered defensively.

"Not all abuse is physical, Julien. Those are not the words of a healthy relationship."

Julien just gaped at Dorian, completely dumbfounded. Looking back on all of it now, it was rather obvious, wasn't it? Marlow's feelings had always been a mystery to Julien, he'd never been too sure on how to act or what to say. Most of the time, he'd  made it a point to just be agreeable as it had been far too easy to upset him. He did have moments where he was kind and almost loving but that was only after they'd spent time apart or after they'd had a fight. It really had been a toxic relationship, hadn't it? Why hadn’t he realised it before?

"Oh. I... I suppose he was…” He let out a sob and nuzzled his face into Dorian’s hair.

It felt so good to have him close again. He should have known Dorian wouldn’t hate him, just as he hadn’t laughed when Julien told him he loved him. Just as he’d expected, Dorian tried to move so he could look at Julien’s face but he didn’t want to see it, whatever it might be, so he clung on tightly and pushed his own face into Dorian’s shoulder. It was childish, but if he saw something in Dorian’s face, disgust or even suspicion, it would just kill him.

“The worst part was… I took him back. Even after he said all of those horrible things, _I took him back_. He said he couldn’t remember most of what he’d said and then blamed it on the alcohol. I could tell he was lying, that he meant at least some of those things but… I still cared about him.” 

 _You know it’s not true though, don’t you?_ Dorian wanted to ask, wanted to tell him it was all lies and the man was better off dead; but hearing it and believing it were vastly far apart.

“That man didn’t know nearly enough about you to say such things. Slander, all of it," he said, swallowing his own sadness at the whole situation. This entire relationship had scarred him horribly, Dorian could see the extent of the damage far more clearly now. How long had this gone on for? He hesitated slightly before asking, "How long were you two together?”

Julien remained quiet for more than a few moments. He almost didn’t want to say, what would Dorian think of him?

“Four years. On and off. I would get sick of him being so distant but then he’d always come back and I…” his breath hitched and he continued in a quieter voice, “I didn’t want to be alone.”

Nuzzling himself further, Julien was becoming so absorbed with his memories. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. To have it all out in the open felt so odd, he couldn’t tell what his emotions were dong anymore. The lump in his throat made it hard to breathe and the stinging of his eyes was almost too much to bear. He felt pathetic. This had happened so long ago, it didn’t even matter anymore.

"He wasn't a bad person, he really was a good guard and helped the poorer people. I think he resented the fact that Andre and I were nobles and that made things… easier for us. I didn't mind helping him at all, just when he… when he got into a bad mood, I was so afraid to lose him and I don't even know why. It was like he was the only thing holding me together sometimes, so I thought it was worth all those bad nights."

He let out a shuddering breath, trying to cast it all off but it didn’t work at all, it only made things worse. He didn’t want to cry on Dorian, damn it! He’d been so patient and understanding, he didn’t want to make things any more awkward than they already were. But he couldn’t stop it. 

"I can understand." Feeling Julien’s tremors made Dorian’s hands cling tighter, as though his strength alone could keep him from falling apart. “Memories don’t quite fade as well as we like to pretend." 

“I-I’m sorry,” Julien managed to splutter out between sobs, “I’m sorry for being such a-a cry baby.”

“You aren’t a cry baby, Amatus. It okay to still be upset.”

That comment opened the floodgates and Julien just started bawling. They sat there for a long while, Dorian just holding Julien while he let it all out. All the bottled up stress, grief and anger just seemed to drain out of him until all he could feel was the warmth of Dorian’s arms around him. He wept until he couldn’t anymore, until all of his tears were dried up, and the two of them lay beside each other on the bed, Julien too exhausted to move at all.

“Feel better?” Dorian asked softly, lounging comfortably on his side as he stroked Julien’s hair.

Julien sniffled and smiled sheepishly.

“A bit. I can’t believe I… I haven’t cried like that in so long. Thank you… for not laughing at me.”

"Why would I? You're utterly boorish but you're strong; you always make it through, and you're… inspiring.” Letting his fingertips trace down the edge of Julien's jaw and neck until his hand lay flat against his chest, Dorian could feel the steady beat, "let's not be forgetting that."

Julien let out a little mewling sound and turned his head to nuzzle his face into the sheets, hiding away his blushing cheeks. Strong? He literally just cried a river on this man and he was calling him _inspirational_? The sight of him being so bashful made Dorian chuckle, the warm, silky sound made Julien’s heart flutter and he found he couldn’t help but smile along with him. He brought his own hand up to rest on Dorian’s, lacing fingers and peeking up at him with one eye.

He was the picture of perfection, really. If anyone here was strong or inspiring, it was him. Dorian was so talented and confident and smart and charismatic and brave and just _amazing_ , Julien still couldn’t really believe he chose him of all people to be with. He really was lucky to have someone so loving and understanding and- Suddenly, Julien felt the want- no, the _need_ to be closer to him. He pushed himself up with his free arm and leant over to gently plant a kiss on those gorgeous lips.

A hand tucked his lower back in as they tumbled until Julien was onto of him, their mouths joined in a mess of warmth and bristles. Quickly Julien flushed with arousal, being so utterly close, unable to separate more than a few inches from Dorian made the tiny room feel suddenly heated, his skin red hot where Dorian left his fingerprints and kisses.

"Dorr…" he moaned, loving the feeling of being captured like this.

Dorian purred at that, which made him want to continue sighing the mages name against his skin. But doubt was still tugging strongly at his mind with every action he took, no matter how minute, bringing him back to that old mindset of acute awareness of every little thing he did and how Dorian might read into it. _You're clingy._ Was he moving too fast too soon? He didn't want to come across as being too desperate. This was stupid, had they not just been over all of this? Dorian was clearly into this right now, so what was the problem? It was agonising, but he refused to allow these intrusive thoughts to stop him from enjoying this intimate moment with the man he was in love with.

Their fingers entwined at their hips where Julien bravely ground against Dorian despite his whirring anxiety, who responded in turn by sucking love bites over Julien's collarbones just beneath the hem of his shirt. Gently he was tipped back until Dorian was crouching between his legs and spreading his warm, bristly kisses down his arms. Jewelled fingers lifted the hem of his shirt and Dorian's mouth moved all over his torso, barely missing an inch.

"Ah, ah, that tickles! Stop!" Julien giggled, squirming about.

Dorian stopped for a moment, lifting his head to shoot Julien a mischievous grin before speeding up, increasing his efforts steadily until Julien’s cackling threatened to attract too much attention.

“Y-you’re evil!” Julien stammered out, still trying to catch his breath, “My stomach hurtssss”

Holding one leg, his mouth pressed to Julien's ankle, Dorian paused finally and Julien caught his breath, an arm covering his eyes.

"I adore that sound," Dorian hummed against the bare skin.

"The sound of me dying? What a romantic," Julien attempted to laugh but his diaphragm gave him a warning stab of pain.

"Your laugh, your voice, all of it."

"Ah my plan worked. I've lured you in to my trap," Julien wearily smiled and reached out to pull Dorian closer to him.

Instead, Dorian pulled the left one up to his face and nuzzled against the soft leather of Julien's fingerless glove, the one he almost never removed. He stayed there for a moment with his eyes closed, just feeling the slight flutter of the anchor. Until he realized it was the tremble of Julien's hand and his heart was plunged in a sea of distress. Was he doing something wrong? Julien wasn't just going to be better all of a sudden, what in Thedas could he say or do to show how much he cared? How far he was willing to go to protect his Amatus' smile?

He gripped Julien's shaking fingers and pressed a kiss into the palm, "I want to help you, but I don't know how."

A bolt of panic shot though Julien at the gesture, as it usually did when anyone got near his left hand. He still had no idea how the anchor worked exactly, and ever since Adamant he was terrified of accidentally opening a rift again. Back then his stupid mistake had cost them all Stroud, having been forced to leave him behind still haunted his thoughts and nightmares. He simply couldn't bear the idea of that happening to anyone else, especially Dorian. He slipped quickly out of Dorian's grip and sat up, moving the hand in question out of the mage's reach.

"S-sorry, Dor the anchor, I-" he stopped and let out a sigh. Dorian knew about his feelings on the anchor, his concerned look wasn't about that. Of course he would pick up on his anxiousness, he was foolish to think he could just will it away. He wanted to let Dorian know that he _was_ helping him just by being here but somehow he couldn’t vocalize the thought. It felt like so much more than that but he couldn’t explain. The words were caught in his throat, threatening to choke him if they left. Why was this so hard?

“Dark and dank in the cellar. The crowd upstairs is rowdy. I have to tell him how I feel. Have to let him know I know. The words die before they can leave. His arms feel right but his words are hollow. It hurts, it hurts. Have to keep my mouth shut or I’ll be alone. _Abandoned_.” 

Julien felt his body go rigid and his gaze met the door in a heated glare, that muffled voice could only belong to one person.

“Cole! How long have you been there?” Julien spluttered, “That’s… get out of my head!”

“It’s different with you, Dorian. He’s relieved you still want him, relieved you listen. You feel safe.”

The boy's words were muffled through the sturdy door but Dorian clung to everyword. He sent a small, thankful smile in Cole's general direction and turned back to Julien who had sunk his face into his hands and his hands into his knees. "I-" Dorian reached behind Julien's knees, carefully pulling his calves down "-shall endeavour-" the hands came next, kisses on each knuckle one-by-one, "-to listen to you-" _kiss_ "-and to want you-" _kiss_ "-for as long- _" kiss "-_ as you'll-" _kiss_ "allow me to." _kiss_. Julien's eyes which had been squeezed shut were now open, staring at Dorian through slightly damp lashed, his beautiful peach coloured lips turned down in a severe pout

"It _is_ different with you, Dor. I _want_ to be able to tell you what is going on in my head but I guess I'm just so used to people not really wanting to hear that," he chuckled sardonically, "actually now I'm the Inquisitor it's almost like no matter what I say _somebody_ isn't going to like it."

Dorian raised an eyebrow at Julien who's laugh died in the silence.

"But seriously, no, it doesn't really matter what those people think, just people like you; my friends and family, even _Andre_ if he would stop being so…rngh" Julien made choking motions with his fists to illustrate exactly _how_ Andre was being. "Maker but I sometimes wish I'd  never even met Marlow. I think it makes it worse remembering just how much I adored him."

Keeping a hold of Julien's hand as the both of them relaxed against each other, Dorian listened to Julien's sigh before he spoke. "You can tell me anything, Amatus. No matter how seemingly trivial or dull it may be."

"You'll regret saying that," Julien smarmed, a wicked smirk curling at the corner of his lips, "Shall I go through the _exact_ germination process of Amrita Vein?"

* * *

Book in hand, Andre sauntered from the mess with little idea of where he actually would go from here. He was still giddy from actually getting to speak to Varric Tethras in person. _The_ Varric Tethras! Speaking to _him_! It was hard to believe! He hadn't been this happy in such a long time that the feeling was almost foreign to him.

While his mind was focused on his current book, lent to him by the captain after she'd overheard his penchant for gritty drama, his legs carried him up on deck. When he felt the sea breeze hit his face, he glanced up and his eyes were greeted with the sight of a collection of large cushions that had been arranged in a pile. Thinking it was as good a place as any to sit and read, he walked over but stopped himself at the sight of  Hark all stretched out upon them, his legs and arms dangling over the sides haphazardly.

"Hello," he said, awkwardly clearing this throat.

Hark shuffled to prop himself up on one elbow, allowing himself to actually see over the massive cushions, and waved, eyeing Andre suspiciously.

"Do you… mind if I borrow one of those?"

He had no idea why he felt so awkward talking to this child. He'd not had an issue with Delilah back in the Fade, why was it so difficult now? Hark swung a hand around and swiftly chose a cushion he deemed available and tossed it to Andre firmly.

"Thank you." Andre mumbled and carried the pillow away to a secluded location behind some crates.

Plopping it unceremoniously on the ground, he sat and settled down to read over the introduction eagerly. It had been far too long since he'd had the opportunity to just sit and relax into his own mind like this. The sound of the waves lapping against the side of the ship actually felt calming rather than sickening, perhaps he was finally becoming more tolerant to the sea.

No less than half an hour and a chapter in, Andre's fingers were gripping the sides of the book in equal measures of horror and curiosity, turning the pages with almost enough force to tear them from the spine. This was... this was  _obcene._ Scandalous! Vile! And also... quite enthralling. Much to his horror, he found he couldn't stop reading it.

“What are you reading?”

Andre’s spirit nearly fled his body with shock but he kept his mouth firmly shut; he would simply never squeal. Feit had seen him jolt however and apologised for the fright as he took a seat on the deck beside him.

“It’s something I was given by the Captain, I believe she’s misread my tastes however,” Andre blushed, hoping Feit had never heard of the book before nor ever pick it up in the future and start making assumptions about exactly what Andre’s interests were.

“Uh-huh.” Feit responded, looking for something more out of the man’s face, then pretending to read the title of the book. “I see.”

Tucking the novel beside his knees on the opposite side to Feit, Andre let out a breath thinking he was lucky it hadn’t been Julien who’d seen it.

Speaking of Julien.

“I know what happened back in Skyhold the night before I arrived,” Andre said plainly, “You shot Julien.” He wasn’t sure where he was going to take this conversation exactly but he felt he needed to air his grievances.

Drawing back as though he’d been hit, Feit had not expected the statement, let alone the thoughts that were dragged along with it; being controlled, infected. It was terrifying. He couldn’t, nor did he ever wish to imagine what it had been like for Gwyn.

“Ye-yes. They were my hands. I’m so sorry.” He wished he had been stronger or had magic, then maybe he could have fought harder against the demon. “I was going to tell you yesterday, but Apple said it wasn’t… No, I should have just told you.” He sighed.

“Yes, you should have.”

Despite being upset and frustrated at not only what had transpired but also no one’s inclination to tell him about it, Andre found he couldn’t be angry at Feit. He’d owned up to what he’d done, not made any petty excuses or tried to shift the blame; a feat Andre found both refreshing and admirable. The fact of the matter still remained however - Feit had loosed the arrow. Whether or not he’d been entirely in control of all his faculties didn’t really matter in the end, Julien still ended up with a punctured lung. This was a difficult situation and Andre wasn’t sure how he felt anymore, wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel. He let out a frustrated sigh.

“Julien told me it happened so long ago it doesn’t matter anymore. I disagree, it _does_ matter. You were possessed or compelled or whatever it was but in the end my brother was the one dying, not you,” he paused, looked up at Feit’s distraught expression and let out a sigh, “Still, I can’t be mad at you. You’ve been a good friend to me and I don’t want this to ruin that. We'll just have to be more careful in the future to avoid this happening again.”

Feit was overjoyed that Andre wasn’t mad, still anxious that he was upset, but glad their friendship was not too worse for wear and without any hesitation, jumped over to the older man and pulled him into a mighty hug.

“This is fantastic! I was so worried you would want to throw me off the ship or something.”

Stunned momentarily by the sudden display of affection, Andre just sat there, completely still while his brain processed what was happening. How long had it been since someone hugged him without the armour being in the way? It was… warm. And not entirely unpleasant. He awkwardly brought his arms up and hugged back, albeit a little stiffly.

“I wouldn’t throw you off the ship, your Sister would flay me alive.”

Laughing into Andre's chest, Feit realised it was way more comfortable than he'd thought, making him wonder why he'd had the idea it wouldn't be… with all that armour on… He leant back with shock at the realisation

"What happened to your chest-plate?" he spluttered out instantly. Andre never, _never_ took it off. In the mountains Feit was certain he'd even been sleeping in the clunky thing.

“It’s… at the bottom of the sea.” Andre replied, swallowing hard.

He’d been trying to avoid thinking about it, really. The anxiety that came with not having it was crippling but if he kept his mind occupied he’d be able to carry on without having a panic attack until they got to Kirkwall. He hoped.

“I had to cut it off when you dropped into the sea… there was no way I could have carried you up otherwise…”

"Oh! Oh…" Feit stumbled on his words, hadn't his armour been important? Not even the Templars wore armour on the ship. The idea that he'd sacrifice it… well it made Feit blush all the way to the tips of his ears. Luckily his dark skin hid most of it. "Can I ask why you wore it so much?"

Hesitation stopped Andre from speaking straight away, this wasn’t a story he shared around easily. Not being a secret per se, but it brought up fears and fixations he cared not to remember or dwell on too much. But Feit had asked, and hadn’t they just had a conversation about being upfront with one another? He took comfort in the sturdy wood of the crate against his back, using that as an anchor to cling to while he attempted to explain without losing grip.

“I-I’ve had- I was attacked by a bear once-” he cursed himself mentally for his inability to speak coherently about this. He brought his head forward to rest it against Feit’s shoulder and forced himself to breathe slower, “I feel safer with it on.”

The weight of his words was immense and for a moment Feit was lost in the intensity of the man, so close to him Feit could feel his breath buffeting from his lungs, blonde hair brushed softly against his cheek and the scent of some expensive material made Feit's mind go severely off track. Was now an appropriate time for his stomach to be fluttering like this? Embarrassingly, Feit was at war with whether he should stay close and comfort him, or part from their hug that was gaining more meaning according to his own dastardly mind.

"It is only another day until we get to The Marches, you can survive Andre, unless bears learn to swim or-or… you could borrow some from one of the Templars? They aren't using it." Pulling back a little and patting Andre on the arm for reassurance, his incredibly bulky… strong arms… had he pulled him up from the water himself? Held him close to keep warm? Oh Mythal have mercy! Feit was certain his face was steaming.

“No that’s… it’s a good idea but it needs to be fitted,” Andre said, stumbling over his words slightly. He looked to Feit who, oddly, flicked his eyes away quickly, like he was avoiding looking at him. Was he… uncomfortable? Suddenly he felt a little awkward, hyper aware of all the places they were touching. Maybe this had gone on for too long?

“Are you… ok?” he asked, dropping his arms to his sides.

"You know I think I, ahh… I think Gwyn needed me for something," Feit gasped, his fingers splayed either side of his cheeks at the sudden recollection. "You're wonderful- to talk to and I will see you… later!"

Andre watched with brow raised as Feit sprang up and practically flew off into the distance. Part of him wondered what could be so important he had to leave that fast but he shrugged it off. He picked the Captain’s book back up hesitatingly, until his morbid curiosity had him reading it again.

* * *

Waiting for an ounce of butter to melt in the sun, Celeste was reminded of sitting for hours at a time in a gilded room so vast it made her head swim to look up at the ceiling. It had been utterly boring then and it was the same now, although the air here was fresh at least. Those rooms had been stuffier than the horse stables because of all the pomposity and hot air being blown around by old fossils and their young vassals as they attempted to gain as much wealth and power as possible from each other without actually doing anything in return.

So as she sat completely still, a skill she’d learned to do in her younger years when twitching and fidgeting was not abided, and she let her mind wander to the places beyond. Back home she’d always fantasise about going on some wild adventure; whether that be competing in the Grand Tourney or going on a bandit raid with her uncle or even just striking it out on her own in the wilderness for a while. It was almost amusing how that now she truly was in such a calamitous situation, it had lost more than some of its appeal. Perhaps she’d been looking through rose-tinted glasses at life and death; or perhaps something in her was changing? Like Julien had changed, growing into a person who was beginning to understand the importance of friendship and responsibility... mostly. Simply put there was nothing fun or exciting about any of this, if anything she was having a worse time here than being stuck in a boring salon. At least getting your ear talked off couldn’t actually kill you.

She hummed absently to herself. If daydreaming could no longer be her escape, then she’d just have to change her fancies. Perhaps being in a spa with someone rubbing her feet would be nice? No! On a beach, under an umbrella with some strapping gent rubbing oil on her skin and curvaceous ladies fanning her. With a cocktail. One of those ones in a coconut with the little umbrella. No, sunburn was far too irritating to even entertain the thought for too long. A hot bath then, with rose petals and oils. No! With a mountain of bubbles and maybe a glass of champagne too? Yes. That was better, perhaps she could organize that when they got to Kirkwall-

“Is it done?” Gwyn leant over Celeste's shoulder and into the bowl of slowly softening gold.

Masking her surprise with a sigh rather than letting herself jump with distress, Celeste replied, “It’s going to take hours to melt. It’s just been too cold lately.”

“Hours?! That just won’t do!” Gwyn whined, quickly slinking around and grabbing the bowl with both hands before Celeste could react.

She was so excited to be doing this, she just wanted to get started already! This butter was the only thing standing in her way of making the best cake Thedas had ever seen. With little concentration, she used a simple fire spell to gently heat the pewter bowl until the butter was mostly melted.

“There!” she said triumphantly, “Saved us some time.”

“That was brilliant!” Celeste exclaimed in awe, “Why on earth do they lock mages away when magic can make things so much easier? There must be infinite possibilities for such skills…”

Gwyn shot her a wide smile and she was about to make a comment when Feit came barrelling around the corner with an odd expression she couldn’t quite place.

“Hey Feit, I was about to come hunt you down,” she said cheerily, “Are you alright? You look a little… out of it.”

Stumbling to a stop at her question, Feit began gesturing with his hands while his mouth failed to come up with words. In the muddle of emotions and gestures, he managed to accidentally slap his own arm painfully. Gwyn chuckled as he drooped over a balustrade.

“Slow down there, Feit. Breathe and tell us what's going on.” 

“Andre.” Feit mumbled.

“Yep! Celeste has organised all the ingredients and we can use the kitchen for a little while.” she grinned and held up the bowl of bubbling golden gloop.

“Come on then, before he catches us,” Celeste said as she ushered them back down into the bowels of the ship.

The three of them descended the stairs and entered into a rather long room with a seemingly infinite amount of crates, barrels and cupboards lined up against the walls. Various pots and pans hung from hooks attached to bars suspended from the roof, placed far enough apart so there was only occasional clanging when the ship swayed. A long bench for preparing the majority of the food ran along the far wall, ending with a small cast iron oven crammed into one corner, a rather old model by the look of it. Honestly, Celeste was surprised to hear they even had one, although she chalked that up to know sweet fuck all about the content of ships. A larger table in the middle of the room dominated most of the space, with Torun standing at the side of it, looking rather cramped next to the hulking figure of The Iron Bull. The both of them peered intently into an open tome; the source of a lot of their frustrations for the morning.

“That means goose, not just fowel because in this instance it’s been written as a proper noun and not a general term.”

“Okay, then let’s go get three goose eggs.” Bull responded sarcastically. “Come on! That’s clearly a feminine form of the which is only used for chicken!”

“It can also be used for goose!”

“Only if the author is illiterate!”

“Torun, please does it even matter? An egg is an egg,” Celeste grumbled, taking her place at the table, “Gwyn melted the butter for us so we can just start right away.’

Gwyn practically skipped over to the two of them, holding out the foamy golden mess proudly.

“Nice.” Bull approved and shared a high-five with Gwyn.

“Was that really high five worthy?” Torun mumbled cynically.

“Nice!” Feit high-five’d them both.

“What are the instructions Bull?” Celeste asked. After actually looking into the chef’s books, they realized all of them were written in Antivan which was a terrible set back, until Bull stepped in with a glinting smile and claimed to be their saviour.

“Need to mix it all together and cook it,” he stated dispassionately. “Or that’s all we’ll be able to do with the lack of baking equipment here. Not even a sieve or a whisk…”

"No problem, I'm certain with our ingenuity we can work something out," she assured him.

It was an arduous task with the five of them all crammed in there together but after two hours of side-stepping each other, avoiding airborne clouds of flour and shoving Torun out of the way, the cake was finally done. There was a expectant silence as Celeste slipped on the oven mitts and drew out the pan with care. When she placed it onto the table, she raised a brow slightly at it. It came out a little… _flatter_ than she'd expected.

"Oh wow! It looks so dense!" Gwyn marveled, poking the top of it with the tip of her finger, "That means it's good, right?"

"It looks a little…" Bull started.

"Should we make icing for it, like the cakes in Orlais?" Feit suggested.

Celeste frowned at the odd puck-like 'cake' set before them, glancing to Torun and Bull who were both equally dismayed at the outcome, a vast contrast to Feit and Gwyn's wide smiles of enthusiasm.

"I can't believe this," Gwyn gleamed "I've never made anything like this before, I hope he likes it."

"Coming from you it could be a crusted turd and he'd still lick the plate." Julien sauntered in, joining them to observe the solid disk which was currently at the centre of the confab. "Oh, shit… I wasn't serious about that…"

Julien was being... well _Julien_. Celeste shot him a death-glare, pointing at him aggressively and then placing a finger over her lips to shush him before returning her attention back to Gwyn. 

"Do you want to make the icing Gwyn?" she said, shooting Julien another glare when he opened his mouth to say something further and raised her voice to speak over him, "the book says you mix icing sugar with water…"

"We don't have that… will normal sugar do?" Gwyn said as she rummaged through the various sacks and containers, clearly oblivious to Julien's jape.

Putting his hands up defensively, Julien shuffled over to the storage crates opposite Gwyn. Celeste watched him closely as he peered into each one, making a disgusted face or hiss of disapproval. Julien had to be monitored at all times around Andre's birthday; he was notorious for pulling horrible pranks that ended with him being severely beaten and Andre being thoroughly embarrassed.

"I think that'll do just fine Gwyn, just make sure you use more sugar than water, make it a nice paste," Julien said with a smirk, fishing a loaf of bread out of a small basket.

"Julien, just leave. I know your game." Celeste hissed making a shooing motion with her hands.

Giving her a stern stink eye, Julien waved a dismissive hand back. "Alright, but we are on a boat. _There is no escape._ "

Bull chuckled, being the only other person besides Celeste to have heard him and she threw her arms up in the air in defeat. Gwyn and Feit both looked completely ecstatic but that really didn’t mean a whole lot in the big picture; this entire ordeal was a complete disaster. The cake they’d all made was far too small to be shared around with the entire crew, putting aside the fact it looked almost completely inedible. It was as her Father used to say: good feelings and smiles aren’t enough to get you over the finish line, actual results mattered too. Still, she didn’t want to let Gwyn down by voicing that. She’d find a way to salvage this, she _had_ to. That wasn’t going to happen with everyone crowding her, however.

“You’ll have to wait for it to cool down before you can put the icing on, Gwyn. Why don’t you take Feit and get some fresh air, I’ll clean up here,” She said as tactfully as she could.

“Sure thing sis. Bull, you want to come with? No offense but you look about as comfortable as a nug stuffed inside a bread box.”

Celeste watched keenly as the three of them ascended the stairs, saving her groan until they were well and truly gone. This kitchen was a wasteland. Flour and sugar was strewn about and sprinkled across every flat surface, a massive stack of bowls littered the sink, a feat Celeste wasn’t even sure how they’d managed to achieve as it swayed dangerously with the movements of the ship. Disaster. Absolute disaster. She buried her face in her hands.

“What am I going to do?”

“What do you mean? I think it looks fine for a first attempt at baking,” Tourn said, placing a hand on her shoulder, “Your brother did have a point – Andre will probably be pleased with anything you guys do for him.”

Her response was a dismissive click of her tongue and her hand slapping his off her shoulder. Why did Torun always say the most useless things?

“Yeah, _he’ll_ be happy but what about everyone else? The crew won’t be if they only get a crumb each. You- no _we_ promised them a party. This little-” she gestured to the ‘cake’, searching for the right word for it, “ _husk_ isn’t nearly enough, assuming it’s even edible. I’m going to try again, maybe we did something wrong.”

She pushed past him and stared at the book. The book that was written in a language she wasn’t fluent in. Damn it! She could talk a chantry sister out of her robes or hit a moving target with a dagger at thirty feet but she couldn’t bake a damn cake? In a fit of frustration, fuelled by both a distinct lack of a restful sleep and the seemingly hopeless situation, she pitched the book at the stairway, barely missing Cullen’s head as he descended the steps. The bewildered look on his face only left her feeling contrite and Celeste slumped forward onto the floured table, the white dust undoubtedly coating her arms and head as she rest there.

“I’m sorry Commander,” she murmured, her voice muffled from her position, “I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”

Cullen exchanged looks with Torun who simply raised his hands in defense.

“What is going on exactly?” he said, picking up the book and placing it on the table next to the crusty disk, “what is _that_ supposed to be? I mean- it looks… so… quaint.”

“A birthday cake... or our _attempt_ at it anyway. For Andre,” Celeste said with exasperation, raising her head to look at it remorsefully, "Yes I know it's an obvious failure. I'm distraught."

With an interested hmm, Cullen turned to the drawers and rummaged for a few moments before brandishing what looked like a thin metal skewer. He returned to the cake and carefully poked the centre of it, pulling it out and examining the results. Celeste and Torun watched with interest at the Commander’s inspection, both sending each other confused looks when he lifted the cake up and studied all the sides.

“It’s definitely cooked all the way through and it’s not burned anywhere, I’d say it tastes better than it looks.”

“How do you know it’s cooked without cutting into it?” Celeste asked, wandering over to stand by him, “The skewer?”

He nodded.

“It came out clean which means there aren’t any undercooked parts. What’re you worried about?”

“Its… it’s not what I had pictured in my mind,” she responded, opening the book back up to the page they’d worked from, “It’s supposed to look like this picture here. I wanted something elegant, something big enough for everyone. This just isn’t good enough.”

Torun sighed at her disappointed expression. After all of the trouble they’d all gone to she still wasn’t satisfied with herself. Her real problem was her inability to accept anything less than perfection with whatever she did, she was discouraged far too easily. 

“I can help you make another one." Cullen shrugged, "It’ll be less elaborate but I think we have enough ingredients to make something.”

Celeste gave him a hopeful but quizzical look so he elaborated, “I have three siblings. There were a lot of name day celebrations to help with when I was younger. So come on, it’s not that difficult if you’re familiar with the process.”

Realising that an easy smile had grown on her face made her grin even wider as her shoulders relaxed and her breath came out in a light chuckle.

"I'll take all the help you can give me, Cullen," she said silkily, letting her hand graze tenderly across his wrist for the barest of moments.

Cullen's arm became surprisingly stiff as he chuckled with attentive humour, yet his eyes mirrored a gleam that showed Celeste her touch was not unwanted. The sound of Tourn clearing his throat drew her attention to him and she flushed at the sight of his disgustingly smug grin. Shit! She'd told herself she wasn't going to do this with Cullen and she'd slipped up and done it anyway. In front of Torun. She had a feeling she wasn't going to live this down any time soon. With a new found need to reclaim her honour, she rolled up her sleeves and cleared her throat.

"Well. Let's get this done already." 

 


	36. Birthday Shenannigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ripples  
> part 4/6

For as many hours as it took for the sun to blaze the sky in a brilliant crimson sunset, the preparations had been made and favours gleaned to make the evening as perfect as possible in Celeste's mind. Thankfully the crew seemed to cherish the idea of a birthday celebration on their ship and Fenris didn't seem too put out by it. So after dropping by the lower decks to stock the mess with bottles and casks, Gwyn, Bull, Torun, and Feit returned to the galley with as much as they could carry in their arms. Tonight was going to be one hell of a party, that was for sure.

Feit felt his foot get caught on something and he tumbled forward slightly, righting himself just in time to keep from dropping the bottles. The sigh he released was short lived when he realised what it was he'd actually tripped over. Cypress and Blackwall both leaned against each other with their legs extended out in front of them, backs against the wall and surrounded by various bottles and mugs. And of _course_ it had been Cypress' legs he'd kicked.

"Watch where yer goin, Da'assan… I'll knock yer block off with that bottle," she grumbled quietly, any annoyance completely absent in her tone, "I'll kick yer legs out from underneath ya!"

She weakly kicked at Feit's legs, clearly trying harder to stay conscious rather than actually attack him. With a barely supressed giggle Gwyn nudged Feit along with her elbow, steering him over to the main table where Celeste was hanging up what looked to be the last of the ropes from the ceiling while Julien sat to the side watching with little interest. 

"Don't mind her," Celeste said, annoyance clear in her voice, "The two of them started drinking a while ago. I imagine they'll be passed out for most of it."

"You didn't exactly try to stop them, sis," Julien mumbled, eyes lighting up as soon as they caught a glimpse of the haul they'd brought in, "Is that what I think it is?"

“Let’s do this!” The Iron Bull said excitedly, plonking the Agreggio on the table, grin etched onto his face.

Julien hastily swiped one of the bottles and popped the cork before Bull could swat his hand away. 

"Alright! Party trick! Watch me down this entire thing!" he exclaimed with a wild look in his eye, leaping up onto one of the tables with ease. He pressed the bottle to his lips and  swung his head back, gulping it down like it was going out of fashion, stopping only when Gwyn began swatting at his leg playfully.

"I don't think that counts as a party trick Julien," Gwyn laughed at his strange enthusiasm while he held out his hand for her to join him.

Celeste growled with frustration. It was quite obvious she was losing control of the situation and she needed to do something before Julien got everyone in here started before the guest of honour even showed up. She grabbed a near-by tankard and clanged it on the table, getting everyone's attention as well as groans from the two against the wall. "This is all for Andre's birthday, you hear? It's his Thirtieth, so-"

"So how old does that make you, exactly?" Julien snorted.

"It makes me old enough to kick your ass if you keep it up," she sneered, "and get off the table!"

Torun feigned a gasp, "My Love! How many years have we been betrothed? Is it six? Going on seven? How time flies."

"You'll be next in line if you don't watch yourself," Celeste threatened softly, "Wait until I've brought him down and then we can begin the celebrations."

“Right, got it!” Julien said with a smarmy wink, cracking open a second bottle without hesitation and when he brought it to his lips Gwyn snatched it away and started drinking it herself.

With an exasperated sigh, Celeste threw her hands up in frustration. “Just… don’t get too drunk before the cake comes out!” she said, shooting Julien a glare before ascending the stairs.

“Pssh! Me? Too drunk? When have I ever-” she walked away before she could hear the end of his sentence, although she didn’t have to think too hard about what he’d said.

Finding Andre wasn’t the problem, it was getting him to actually go downstairs without dragging him by the ear. She found him curled up behind a crate reading some book. When he got invested in something, it was hard to shake him from it - the outside world just stopped existing for him.

“Dre, can I borrow you for a moment?” she called out.

He didn’t respond.

“Dinner is served, do you want to go have some with me?”

Still nothing.

“Andre!”

This was ridiculous. She marched around to face him head on and snatched the book from his hands. His bedazzled expression quickly turned to panic and he scrambled to his feet, trying to grab the book from her hands desperately.

“C-Cel, please give that back!”

She gave him a confused expression. What was he freaking out about? She hadn’t lost his spot. Leaning away from him, holding the book just out of his reach she turned it around to read the title of the book.

"Fifty Shades of Grey Wardens?" She raised a brow at him. " _Really_ , Andre?"

"It's a very informative novel on the tactics used by the wardens during the Fifth Blight… mostly political garbage and soldier positioning. Very dull, "he bumbled out, "Can I have it back please?"

He was almost convincing. _Almost_. Even if he wasn't so obviously hiding something, Celeste had not only heard of this book but she'd read it. A few summers back it was the talk of all the noble ladies in Ostwick; the bawdy tale of King Alistair and his Queen having various 'adventures' across Ferelden. It was absolute garbage, a trashy smut novel that had so many spelling mistakes and inconsistencies it made Celeste's head want to implode. 

Staring at the book a horrible, evil idea wormed its way into her mind. She still hadn't gotten him back for waking her up...

In a pressurised monotone voice she flicked open to a random page and began reading: "He was hard and soft at once, like fresh leather, the strong scent tanging in her nostrils and in lashes against her tongue. 'oh, my lady, please be gentle.' he begged, 'never before have I felt the touch of another, and to feel one such as yourself is almost too much for me.'" she hid her amusement behind a mask of neutrality while Andre looked close to breaking with embarrassment.

"' _Soldier positioning_ ' alright," she smarmed, "Shall I continue on?"

"NO!" Andre yelped, flinching slightly at the volume of his voice.

He continued reaching out for the book, trying to pull her arm towards him and knock her over at the same time but Celeste was too dexterous and slipped out of his reach whenever he got too close. When it became evident she wasn't about to let it go, he resorted to begging.

"Please, don't tell Julien! T-the Captain lent it to me and there isn't anything else to read…"

With one last amused smirk, she held it out for him and he practically tore it from her grip.

"Don't Worry, Dre your secret fascination with BDSM friend-fiction is safe with me. Just, come down stairs will you?"

"Alright" he resigned and tucked the book into his pants "What did you need, sis?"

"Julien is having trouble writing to his Ambassador and needs you to scribe for him," she shrugged, "You know his chicken-scratch, It's a miracle Josephine lets him near official records."

"Okay." he agreed immediately, "but… what is beedee-es-em?"

* * *

Trotting exitedly down the last few steps, Celeste tugged Andre along and watched with glee the change of expression as his eyes were drawn about the scene. The room was full to bursting with people; ropes, flags and what appeared to be someone's coat, were hung about the rafters as decoration and a bounty of ale and wine stacked across the tables. The entire room was lit to an extraordinary level with coloured mage-light and candles brightly shimmering every possible space.

"Happy Birthday!" Feit and Gwyn cheered excitedly, flinging their arms around him from each side, pulling him in to a big hug.

Andre stood in complete awe of the spectacle. They'd all organized this for him? He'd completely forgotten it was even his birthday, with all that was going on it had completely slipped his mind. The fact they had remembered it and gone to all this trouble… he couldn't quite believe it. With a big smile he snaked his arms around them and returned the hug, lifting the two of them off the ground and spinning them around happily.

"I… I don't know what to say. Thank you!'

Giggling uncontrollably, they grinned and dragged him towards their cake, set out on a silver platter. Its crusts- _crusts?_ \- were ragged and flaking while the centre dipped, creating a pool of the glazing that had been drizzled over the flat disk. It looked… it looked…

"I love it!"

"It's a puck!" Julien drawled, bubbling with tipsy laughter.

Andre gave him the stink-eye, noting how drunk his brother already was and hissing in disapproval. "It's wonderful." smiled genuinely, the thick scar that ran from his temple to his jaw stretched with the rare facial movement.

He really couldn't believe all of this was happening, that it was all for him. Gwyn handed him a knife, the smile on her face was so wide her cheeks would surely be aching and he began slicing it into six miniature triangles.

"It's so tiny!" Julien's running commentary continued.

When few of those gathered held their pieces in their palms, everyone looking expectantly at Andre to take the first bite. He could tell they'd worked very hard to make it and was a little nervous, hoping his reaction didn't disappoint them. Finally raising the slice to his mouth, he noticed the sweet scent that he didn't quite recognise, perhaps some foreign fruit? Taking a bite, the crunch made a few people gasp uncertainly. Others followed when his chewing was just as loud.

"Wow, what is this? It's very good."

Feit sighed with relief and jumped up next to him. "Something called Banana. Great, right?" taking a bite of his own. The texture was both crispy with gems of the globby, sticky fruit.

"No way is that getting near my mouth." Julien continued to tease, even after receiving an elbow in the stomach from Celeste.

"Then perhaps you should keep it shut," Celeste hissed at him, shooting him one last warning look before pushing off the edge of the table and signalling Cullen. 

The two of them moved over to another table and came back around to present another, even bigger two-tiered cake with ropes of thickly whipped icing lacing the edges. "That one cake came out sort of… small. So Cullen helped us make this one for everybody to eat."

"You made… two?" Andre said, even more stunned at all the trouble they'd gone to.

Julien whistled in appreciation and practically leaped off the table, barrelling over to the new cake with glee. It was amazing they even managed to scrounge up all of the ingredients let alone getting it to look this amazing. So delicately decorated, so visually imposing, so mouth-wateringly delicious smelling. Julien felt his mouth twitch with anticipation.

"Now this, _this_ I would put in my mouth," he turned to Cullen with a look of appreciation, "You, my good friend, are an artist."

Cullen shrugged bashfully as everyone cheered at the size of it before quickly swarming in like ants attacking a discarded sandwich. Eventually Celeste managed to direct everyone out of the way and to their seats; letting them form their own little groups at each of the tables.

"Alrighty everyone, shut it!" Julien called out, banging a spoon rather loudly against his tankard to get everyones attention, "my dearests brother… my only brother," he slurred slightly, staring intently into his tankard as though spying something there, "I won't take long saying this."

A silence fell as everyone waited on bated breath for his words. Even Andre felt anxiously tense, but perhaps for not the same reason as most others. Celeste looked prepared to pounce while Feit and Gwyn were grinning giddily.

"So here you go," Julien finished with a grand sweeping gesture he whipped out a rectangular object wrapped in brown paper, "Your present! I will accept your thanks in written or verbal form… possibly interpretive dance depending on how drunk I am."

With a flick of the wrist, Julien slid the package down the table to where Andre sat with impressive accuracy. He watched his brother stare at it apprehensively with a small satisfied smile. It brought him no small measure of amusement to see how paranoid he was.

Andre slowly untied the string with trepidation. He was just waiting for one of his horrible pranks. Like that one time he filled his boots with relish or the time he sewed all of the leg holes closed on every single pair of pants he owned. Was this the real present or was it a decoy? He would have to open this package carefully, in case there was confetti or glitter or- he let out an audible gasp as he pulled the paper back.

The smell of the clean ink was intoxicating as he slid the book free. In his hand he held a signed copy of Varric Tethras' Hard in Hightown - Authors cut, with comments from the editor. "You really got this for me?" he gasped. Of course he did, Julien always gave the best presents despite his constant need to torment Andre to the brink of his sanity.

Julien gave him a casual shrug but the satisfied smile on his face undermined his nonchalance.

"Thought you might like it and I happen to be a _personal friend_ of the author," he said, shooting Varric a smarmy grin and a wink, "It was nothing."

"It's… Thank you Julien. This means a lot." he said genuinely, still staring at the beautifully leather-bound cover with glee.

"Yeah, yeah don't get all mushy on me. We'll be back to trying to murder each other before the night's through, trust me."

Hours in and Celeste sat down at the table, just being satisfied with sipping the brew and observing. People were quite fascinating when they were drunk and she was quite curious as to see how everyone would behave... and perhaps take some notes for blackmail later on.

She watched Julien tearing the now-empty bottle away from his mouth, gasping for air as he did so. This was his, what fourth bottle? Fifth? He flashed a goofy smile at Dorian and the dropped the bottle on the ground, paying it no mind as it clanked against the ground and rolled under the table innocently. He threw his arm forward and signalled for Bull to hand him another bottle but he only received a tankard.

“We gotta ration it out, Boss. Could you reign it in?” Bull asked, chuckling at Julien's pout as he poured Aphel a new mug.

"You underestimate the power of my alcoholism," Julien drawled, holding out his own to be filled.

Aphel went to take her tankard back to sit by Celeste but the ocean’s swell had her swerving already and she tripped over Cypress and spilt half of her ale; most ending up on the floor with the rest splashing onto Cypress and Blackwall. "Fenhedis, why does that keep happening?"

"Alright Bear, I prrdy shoor I won." Cypress slurred but otherwise didn’t move.

Blackwall was out cold and his drool had begun to pool onto Cypress where his head met her shoulder.

Aphel smiled at the two of them. She hadn't really talked to either of them in the time they'd been travelling but they seemed to be getting on fairly well. Scarily well. She made a mental note to keep an eye on them in the coming days, just to see if anything would come of it. Her attention was drawn back over to Julien who seemed to be  were performing hand-stands with Feit with quite the crowd gathered about them. From what she could hear over the din, Varric was taking bets on which would stay upright the longest and which would suffer the worst hangover.

“G-give up 'Eit! I do this 'vry morning after I wake up!” Julien slurred horribly.

It was... mostly true. He did have good upper-body strength but it came from pull ups, not handstands. A technicality! If he was being perfectly honest, however, he was almost at the point of collapse. All of the alcohol in his system was not reacting well to his being upside down and the swaying of the ship. Or maybe that was him. A mix of the two? It didn't matter! He would not give up! Literally the only thing that could stop him was throwing up.

It was in fact only five minutes later that Julien was hurling over the rail but just as soon was throwing back a fresh tankard of ale with just as much drunken reverie. Flashing a smirk to no-one, Julien swaggered his way to a certain unattended mug of granatus. He looked both ways. Andre seemed to be missing for the moment; now was his time to strike. Quickly grabbing a nearby pitcher he took a whiff to confirm its contents then 'accidentally' tipped it in, using his finger to swirl it around a little as he smiled to himself, completely pleased. He placed the pitcher down and sputtered a laugh when his drunken mind realised more than half was gone. Thank the Maker Andre preferred his granatus extra syrupy and sugary, the gin would hopefully be masked by it. Carefully placing it back down, he giggled slightly before swaying back towards Dorian's lap.

* * *

After emptying his stomach well enough, Andre returned to find himself confronted by several scenes including an almost nude Dorian losing terribly at Wicked Grace. _That_ brought back memories he had been trying to supress. Aphel challenged him to arm wrestle to which he declined until Feit’s cheerful enthusiasm had his competitive side roaring.

"Set your arm then Aphel. I won't be going easy on you," Andre announced.

Aphel grinned with the atmosphere and sat opposite the man. “I am seriously going to enjoy this.”

Andre placed his arm on the table, grasping Aphel's smaller hand in his own. Her grin widened, her own self confidence shining through. He felt his eye twitch. Oh he couldn't _wait_ to wipe it off her face.

“Best out of three?” he said, shifting in his chair to get more comfortable.

"If your strength allows it." She poked her tongue out playfully.

"Yeah! Go!" One of the crew members signalled and they strained against each other or a few fitful moments before Andre found a moment of weakness and slammed Aphel’s hand down.

"That won't be happening again." Aphel laughed.

Feit came up behind Andre with his hands on the man’s shoulders and leant down. “Apple you really underestimate your opponents,” he smiled.

“Ha, you're right, but I've been dying to beat him at something.”

Feit frowned with shock. “Wait, I’m right? You think I’m right? But… You’re meant to say 'don’t be ridiculous' or something.”

Andre allowed himself a small victory smile.

“That was well played, it got really close at the end there,” he said, giving credit where credit was due.

Beating her had been a lot tougher than he thought it would be and he wasn't sure if he could win again. They'd agreed to best out of three however, so he set himself up again, determined look returning to his face.

“Round two?”

This one was over a lot quicker than the first.

“HAHA! YOU LOSE! TAKE IT OFF!” Gwyn's shout of glee carried to Andre's ears.

His head swung around as the sound reverberated and there was no hesitation as Aphel slammed Andre’s hand down on the table.

"For the love of- I’ll have nothing left to take off! Julien! Do something about this! She must be cheating somehow,” Dorian whined.

"Oh Dor, you’re just mad because she isn’t falling for your cheating,” Julien tutted but gave his jacket to the mage.

"Hey, you can’t trade clothes!" Gwyn pointed at them.

"It’s a _loan,_ " Julien smarmed and handed Dorian a glove.

Aphel allowed herself a drink for her win but set up again quickly. 

"Let’s find out who’s the strongest shall we?"

Andre grumbled but set himself up again. That shouldn't have counted! He was distracted, dang it! He'd just have to win his pride back. "This doesn't really prove who is stronger just… luckier," he defended.

"We aren't playing cards here buddy," Aphel grunted with exertion.

“Rogue wave!” Julien suddenly yelled as he wrestled Solas into their table, earning himself a mind blast that threw him back into another person while Andre and Aphel were tossed aside into a pile of drunks.

"You blasted idiot!" fumed the tawny man who had served out the dinner earlier.

Solas apologised but gave an awkward look at Julien who returned it with a cheesy grin.

"Sorry, I forgot you weren't- he usually- never mind," Julien blushed.

Aphel's feet finally brought her to Celeste where she sat perched, observing her masterpiece of a party and watching Andre who was smiling and laughing, a rare sight even on a good day. Her red hair tumbled from behind her ear when she drank and put down her stemmed glass, so when Aphel sat beside her she reached a hand to tuck it back, admiring the coy look Celeste returned to her and falling for her adorable giggle.

"Ale from a wine glass?"

"Ale? No you're mistaken, this is the finest bubbling wine money can buy," she replied with faux pomposity in her tone, "I am a lady of class. Could you imagine the _scandal_?"

Celeste broke out into a giggle before Aphel could really reply, her mouth curving into a smile that made the corners of her eyes crinkle slightly with the mirth. To be perfectly honest, this was not her first ale and it probably would not be her last. She prided herself on her ability to hold her liquor but she couldn't deny the giddy feeling in her chest and the slight blush on her cheeks.

"Come. Sit with me, I think our brothers are about to show off their musical talent."

Julien and Feit sat opposite each other as one held a fiddle and the other in his palms a Kalimba, a small hollow wooden instrument with a row of metal teeth beginning quite short on the outer edges and extending in length in the centre of the line. His fingers nimbly plunked each note and half note that flowed strong and sweet like a sparrow's tune while he quietly sung the words he remembered.

"I never had the perseverance to learn anything," Celeste admitted, "but Julien? Julien is _fucking_ brilliant."

"You could if you wanted to, you have beautiful hands." Aphel took up one of those hands and placed a soft kiss upon a freckled knuckle. With guilt bubbling in her stomach, it had been difficult to find the right words to say; Aphel wanted to know if Celeste still felt something for her, but what good would it do even if she did?

For the time Aphel endured within the nightmare, it cemented her fears of failure, of making the wrong choices, of dooming all her friends. But when it came to how she felt about Celeste, the cards were still in her hand. Despite her swift and dazzling entrance into Aphel's life, Celeste made strides into her heart as a stray cat would; curling up in her new location as if she'd lived there her whole life. It would be hard to let her go and Aphel feared she had already allowed her feelings to grow too strong. Was it worse to know if Celeste would suffer just as must as she when the time came? Almost just as much Aphel prayed to Mythal that she'd somehow spurned the noble-woman for good, for the better.

"It's…I've come to adore you in such a short time," she confessed and combed a hand through her hair, tugging nervously.

Her eyes flicked up and observed Celeste as she took a slow sip of her 'wine' with a thoughtful expression etched onto her face. It was somewhat nerve-wracking just waiting for a response, if there even was one to be had. Aphel thought she saw a flicker of a frown but if she had, it was gone as soon as it had formed.

"Mmm. It's been a pretty intense couple of weeks, hasn't it?" Celeste finally replied, smoothly deflecting, "How are you holding up? Andre told me about what happened in the Fade. Well mostly anyway, some of the details were a little fuzzy but I got the gist. He said they found you in a bloody field and your spirit had been torn in half? Sounds like you've been through quite the ordeal. I can't even begin to fathom what you must have experienced."

She reached across the space between them and placed her hand over Aphel's, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Either can I, everything was so… _foggy._ Like being underwater. It makes me wonder how it must have been for Gwyn to be possessed by an actual demon. I suppose being strapped to a malevolent ball of rage and fear would be… enlivening," Aphel sighed.

"Enlivening? What makes you say that?" Celeste raised a brow.

"Just a little ex-possessed humour. You wouldn't understand."

Celeste's attempt to scoff with disbelief turned to snorts of laughter and the two of them fell against each other's shoulders with an easy humour. "Shut up, don't tease me."

"But I like to. Especially when it gets a laugh out of you."

"Come on now," Celeste nudged Aphel to be serious, "The nightmare, you can tell me about it if you need to. You shouldn't keep these burdens all to yourself."

"And you're not dying from curiosity at all."

"Just a little but I get it if you don't want to tell me," she said in a serious tone.

Aphel nodded. It seemed like almost everyone knew already, Solas had grilled her for every detail and the rest of the Trevelyans plus Feit had been there. But even then, they had only arrived at the end.

Like a spider, that other part of her had made their web a veil over her thoughts until every action she'd taken gradually felt less and less in her command. It was sickening to know how powerless she had become and how equally dangerous to those around her. Now a clenching in her stomach and a sharpness from her left hand helped remind her where she was and that small sense of panic between the flashbacks that told her she wasn't ready to let her guard down.

"Sorry Cel. I don't think I'm ready yet," She responded coolly and sipped from her mug.

"I'll be here for you," Celeste swore honestly and, with as much impulsivity as when they'd first kissed, she placed a single one on the softness of Aphel's cheek. She drew back slowly and watched Aphel's profile for an infinitesimal moment, until those golden eyes met hers and Celeste found herself smiling from either habit or embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

Aphel's brows piqued in confusion. "Okay, but it isn't your fault. I need time to sort things out in my head is all."

Celeste shook her head, "Never mind. I'm just happy you're alright."

The melody coming from Julien and Feit together had those around them humming and tapping fingers and feet. Camaraderie was sorely needed for the entire group that after the end of the song, everyone who had been enraptured by the melody was clapping and smiling.

“What is that?” Cole asked, pointing at the instrument Feit held.

Feit shrugged and plunked experimentally. “It’s a kalimba. I made it a long time ago. I can play other things too.”

He pulled out a polished silver flute from his belt and blew a few quick, short breathy notes along the scale.

Aphel came over and took the Kalimba in her hands, standing behind Feit as she used to when they played as children, following his chords with a bar of her own. A few of the notes were off but she was just glad she could remember it at all.

_“// Melava inan enansal //_

_// ir su araval tu elvaral //_

_// u na emma abelas //_

_// in elgar sa vir mana //_

_// in tu setheneran din emma na //”_

She sang it slowly and evenly so as not to let her voice break, but Feit soon followed her with his flute and Julien with his fiddle.

Almost everyone in the room  ceased what they were doing and directed their attention at the three of them. Andre smiled into his tankard, somewhat glad for the distraction. As much as he didn't want to admit it, seeing Julien actually playing seriously for once was refreshing and he was honestly surprised at his apparent skill level. He'd not demonstrated such aptitude in front of anyone back home. 

"Andraste's flaming butt cheeks," Julien chimed as they finished up their song, "I've not played like that in so long, I didn't realise how much I missed it. I had no idea you played, Aphel!"

"Not very well, that is for certain." Aphel replied amusedly. Hark, who had been swinging on the Iron Bull's horns, scrambled over to them with a lute circled in his arms and began strumming furiously at the instrument with seemingly no tune in mind. 

With a contented sigh, Aphel handed the kalimba back to Feit and returned to her place next to Celeste, pecking her on the cheek as she sat back down.

"That was beautiful," Celeste complimented her.

Aphel simply hummed in appreciation and the two of them sat in a comfortable silence, just enjoying one another's company until Torun and Gwyn pulled up chairs across from them, the latter brandishing a deck of Wicked Grace cards with glee.

"Up for a rematch Aphel? I still have to win back my dignity from Skyhold," Gwyn asked, a determined look on her face.

Five hands in and things were heating up fast with each of them holding a win, save for Aphel who had two. Celeste noted the fiery look in Gwyn's eye; she was _so_ determined to beat Aphel is was equal measures amusing and terrifying. Useful information there, something that could exploited. Celeste took a sip from her wine glass as she drew from the deck, humming happily when she got a third Knight card.

Her gaze flicked from her cards upward to Cullen, standing off to the side with an odd look on his face. It took her a moment to recognise it but the expression was one of utter discomfort and ... pain? Intense worry flushed through her and she noted his hands were shaking terribly, although he seemed to be trying desperately to stop it, pressing his them closer to his body as he crossed his arms.

Although she had no idea what was wrong she felt the need to go help him but first she had to get out of this game. Her eyes flicked back to her cards. Damn. A winning hand too.

"I think I'm going to have to back out of this one guys, there's only so far a bluff can go," she laughed, placing her cards face down on the table.

"Running out of coin, sis?" Gwyn said a little too intently.

Celeste gave her an affirmative nod, accompanied by a dismissive shrug. "Got to have some spending money for Kirkwall. Enjoy your earnings, I'll have to win them back from you later."

She slipped quietly from the table and ignored Torun's raised brow. Although that competitive part of her was screaming at her to go back and wipe the floor with all of them, there were more important things to attend to. As she passed the 'buffet' table, she took a glass of water. Not chilled, unfortunately, but one couldn't expect that in the middle of the sea. He didn't even notice her approach, judging from the way he jumped a little when she placed a hand on his arm.

"Commander, would you like to join me up on deck for some fresh air?' She said, voice laced with concern, "you look like you could use it.”

He gave her a look that was equal measures discomfort and embarrassment, his eyes darting about the place as if he wanted to be anywhere other than standing there next to her.

“Look, you don’t have to talk to me about... whatever it is that’s going on with you if you don’t feel comfortable with it, that’s fine, but you look really ill. I think this water,” she handed him the glass, “and some fresh air will do you wonders.”

He let out a defeated sigh, “perhaps you’re right.”

With a nod she led him towards the exit, her hand pressed lightly against the small of his back as the two of them ascended the stairs.

The cold night air hit her hard in the face and she shuddered, drawing her arms around herself at the shock, almost immediately regretting leaving her coat downstairs. Cullen chuckled at her reaction and she puffed out her cheeks in mock annoyance. The cold didn’t seem to affect him in the slightest.

“Well at least you’re smiling now, I suppose,” she mumbled, walking briskly over to the railing to rest against it.

“I do feel a little better, thank you,” he replied quietly.

She hummed in appreciation when he joined her in leaning against the rail, just close enough for her to sap some of his warmth. They stood in comfortable silence, him sipping at the water and her looking out over the water as it swelled with the wind, not so much to be a concern but just enough to be eye catching. The reflection of the stars on the water’s surface so beautiful Celeste wished she had the skill to capture it with paint.

"How'd you get that?"

She looked over to him with an inquisitive hmm before following his gaze to the back of her hand, more specifically the diagonal scar that was planted in the centre. She did _not_ want to go into how she got that with him. It had been so embarrassing and her Father had been so furious with her. Bad memories. Bad, bad, _bad,_ embarrassing memories.

“Oh this? I backhanded a fire poker,” she lied nonchalantly, “on accident of course.”

“How did that even happen?” he asked, seemingly baffled by it.

“Tripped during a dance lesson and landed on a poorly stored poker. There was blood everywhere, honestly thought I was going to lose my hand at the time,” she laughed, shifting her hand away from his gaze awkwardly.

“Wow. That’s some pretty bad luck,” he said with a slight chuckle, “must run in the family.”

_Oh?_ That piqued her interest. “What makes you say that? Has my _darling_ little brother had some unfortunate accidents as well?” she said with a small smirk.

He flashed her a knowing smile. “He went missing once, back when we first moved into Skyhold. We spent hours looking for him but no one had seen or heard anything; we thought he’d finally had enough and just run away,” he paused for a moment to chuckle to himself, “Sera found him later that night in the main hall, wedged in between the scaffolding and the wall. Apparently he’d hidden up there to get out of a meeting and slipped.”

Celeste burst out laughing at the image that story conjured in her mind; it was so _classic_ him. She had so many stories about all the stupid shit Julien done as a kid, she decided to share a few more with him, seeing as they were on the subject. The two of them became so invested in sharing stories they forgot about why they were out there in the first place, only returning to the party once Gwyn dragged them both back down to witness the drunken shenanigans.


	37. Not far to go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ripples part 5/6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The times between chapters has definitely increased and that is absolutely no one's fault just... Fallout 4...  
> Please enjoy this and we hope for encouragement and advice from readers, it would be SUPER appreciated <3 Thanks Lovlies! 
> 
> ~Kim & Kill

Andre awoke to a suffocating darkness and a feeling of dread pounding behind his eyeballs and at the bottom of his oesophagus. As he rose from the couch he was lounged upon, something heavy fell away from his face and into his lap; a quick glance revealing it to be the book he'd borrowed from the Captain. Much to his horror, it now had annotations made where his own name replaced that of one of the characters with crude drawings to act as examples. It mortified him that someone could cause such damage to a book but he lacked mental capacity to actively discover the culprit. For later, he decided, and pulled himself to his feet.

Taking a glance about the room, he noted most of the people who'd attended the party were passed out in various positions. The fogginess clouding his brain prevented him from noting anyone in particular as he stumbled his way over to the row of barrels lining the far wall, towards the one with a jug of water perched upon it. With a slight tremble in his hands, he lifted the jug to his weirdly dry mouth and drank some of the liquid, almost instantly spitting it out and coughing uncontrollably as his teeth continued to burn.

"-ts gin, Dre"

Andre searched for the source of the muffled voice but found no one had stirred.

"Hello?" he rasped dryly when his search proved futile.

A pale hand grabbed the edge from the inside of the barrel the voice had emerged from and gave Andre a lazy wave. When he leaned in he saw Gwyn stuffed into it awkwardly, she flashed him a tired smile.

"Hey."

"How did you end up in there?"

"I feel like there was a reason but I am so uncomfortable right now I might cry. Help me please?" Gwyn reached out a free arm and the two of them heaved her free and she wobbled back onto her feet.

"Oh Maker everything hurts," she groaned and stretched each joint carefully.

"We should be getting into port today," Andre sighed and began gently rubbing Gwyn's shoulders and back, "We shouldn't have gotten so rowdy last night. Even I feel terrible and I didn't even drink any alcohol."

Gwyn made a noise that denoted humour at his statement but Andre couldn't work out what exactly she had found amusing, so he leant over her till he was looking at her profile over her shoulder.

"What's so funny?"

She began to smile until a throbbing pain had her grimacing. "You. Of course you drank, you were all over the place. You even did a dramatic reading of that book of yours."

She began heading to up the steps to find a flagon of water while Andre stood frozen for a few seconds, comprehension dawning on him at her words making his chase after her.

"Which book Gwyn?" he called out after her desperately. He really, really, _really_ hoped it was Hard in Hightown.

With a knowing cackle she slipped into the kitchen and Andre darted in after her, narrowly avoiding a collision with Celeste who was carrying a mug of water in each hand.

"Watch it you two! If I spill this water I'm going to spill _you_ into the water," she snipped, nodding her head in the direction of the open sea, "and keep it down, most of us have hangovers."

She took a few steps away before turning back and facing Andre.

"And it was the smutty book, Andre. Everyone heard you describe the Hero of Ferelden's muscular ass with great… fervour"

"Noo," Andre whispered pathetically, sliding down the nearest wall into a heap on the floor, "how did this happen?"

"Who cares?" Gwyn pet a comforting hand on his head. "You were happy and had a lot of fun, none of it really matters and it's highly unlikely many people will remember it."

"It was Julien, I know it was him," Andre seethed.

Celeste laughed sharply and walked off in the direction of the deck.

"Yes, it does sound like something he'd do. Don't worry Dre, I'm sure he'll get his comeuppance," she said with a rather ominous cackle.

Gwyn shrugged and made her way to a nearby pail, untied the top of her robe so it was hung at her waist and, grabbing a pitcher of water, poured the cool clean liquid over her head. With what landed into the bucket, she scooped up into her hands and splashed at her face, sighing over how good it felt.

"Ah! Gwyn what are you doing?"

"Huh?" Gwyn turned around to see Andre facing the wall, his hands covering his face. "I'm just washing my face?"

"No I mean you… you're… _you're showing_ ," he stuttered.

Gwyn looked at him quizzically until she realized he must have been talking about her chest, then flushed as she realised what she'd done. "S-sorry… I'm just so used to… I forgot, sorry." she covered herself quickly and smacked her forehead, reeling at her own idiocy.

“What do you mean you _forgot_?” Andre spluttered, tremendously flustered by the entire situation, “I’m here! And we’re in the kitchen!”

Frowning in anger at his lack of understanding, she spoke sharply over her shoulder, wishing he would just forget it had ever happened. "I didn't exactly get the luxury of privacy while I was in Ostwick."

"Ah-" Andre cleared his throat, realising how he'd over-stepped. After all he'd tried to do- to be for his younger sister, he'd never really given much thought on how she'd felt. Now she was obviously embarrassed and all he'd done was make her feel worse. "I'll go see how things are going up above and try to find the others."

"Right," She nodded curtly, "you do that."

He reeled at her sharpness and stumbled back out of the door, cursing himself for his insensitivity. The swaying of the ship barely registered in his mind as he wandered up the stairs to the deck; his mind going over every little detail, every little nuance of their interactions leading up to this point. Being shoved outside of the Circle so abruptly clearly affected her more than he'd realised. To suddenly have to deal with the outside world must have been a major culture shock.

But the Ostwick circle had been disbanded, what, a year and a half now? And she still was not entirely used to it? The thought of what she'd been like fresh out of there troubled him. Why hadn't she just come home? He would have made sure she was safe and happy and- 

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a large hand slapping him on the back with enough force to send him stumbling forward. That familiar ire began burning in his chest yet the odd sense of relief that came with the familiarity of it would usually have bothered him. _Usually_. Maybe it was the hangover or perhaps the pent up frustration; either way he found himself suddenly itchy for a good fight. 

With a low growl he spun himself around and, using the momentum paired with his weight, he gut-punched the hand's owner with all his might. A feeling of satisfaction and almost-giddiness filled his chest at the sound of the recipient's groaning until he realised who it was and he felt his stomach drop.

"Feit! What on earth are you doing?!" he bellowed and knelt next to the crouched elf.

"-fish… slap--" Feit coughed and collapsed, a carp falling from his hand onto the wood of the deck.

"Maker, you're just like Julien! I thought you were Julien!" Andre fussed.

Feit lay prone on the deck, completely despondent, and for a precious few moments Andre feared he may have actually killed him until his quiet groaning resumed. So he’d been on the receiving end of a stupid prank. Had Feit come up with this himself or had someone put him up to it? It didn’t really matter he supposed, he’d retaliated and won back at least a small measure of dignity. He let that feeling of satisfaction return in the form of a tiny smirk. He leant forward so his mouth was right next to Feit’s ear.

“If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.”

Feit could only give a pained thumbs up as he regained control over his spasming diaphragm. "Kitchen, got it…" he finally choked.

"Hey! What happened?" Aphel jumped down the steps from an upper deck to land near the crumpled form of her brother. "Fish?"

The Iron Bull and a few of his men followed Aphel, some moving past them and greeting others already out working. Bull leant over and gripped Feit's forearm, helping him up in one smooth motion.

"I-uh… the result of a little failed prank," Andre responded stoically.

"We'll be coming into port in just under an hour, Captain said," The Iron Bull remarked.

"Oh thank the Maker."

"At last," Aphel and Andre both sighed in relief. "I know I was amazed by the sea before but there really is only so much rocking about a person can take."

“I have to agree with you on that. I’ll be quite glad to have both my feet planted firmly on the ground,” Andre remarked, raising to his feet as well, “Have any of you seen Julien? I need to have a word with him.”

Suddenly Aphel and the Iron Bull turned to each other, both of their neutral expressions cracking into wide grins and fits of laughter. Feit began to giggle along with them, holding his stomach where it must have been aching.

"What…?" Andre asked with trepidation.

Bull wiped a small tear from his eye, "Ah you'll see. You'll see…" giving Andre's shoulder a friendly nudge before walking off with Feit tucked under an arm.

"Coming into port!" yelled a distant voice which was soon echoed down the length of the ship.

Andre's eyes lit up as he scanned the horizon for the famous chain gates which opened into Kirkwall's docks; they were really doing it, seeing the very same things the Champion saw. He took a deep breath and grinned, smelling the air and picking up the foul stench of the grime and grit of the city. Just as Varric Tethras has described.

Realising what the shout meant; loading and unloading, organising their band and making sure no one got lost or left behind, Andre set off towards the crowd of people intending to help out with the unloading but instead found himself stopped by the sight of his brother tied upside down from the main mast. Completely naked.

“Why is he upside down?” he couldn't help but ask, his brows coming together with deep furrows.

"That'd be my handiwork," Celeste smarmed, slinking over to him with Aphel in tow, both with massive grins on their faces. 

“You’re not concerned about his state of dress?” Aphel added.

Andre raised a brow at her, “He used to streak all the time when he was younger, mostly during Father’s meetings or at dinner parties. I’m far more interested in how this even happened.”

"Called in a favour with some of the crew; we got him up there while he was passed out. Some of my best wor-"

Julien’s sickly groaning cut off Celeste before she could finish her sentence.

"Please cut me down Dre… I think I’m going to be sick. You don't want that do you? What if I choke on it and suffocate? Please…”

Andre flashed a tiny smirk and considered his options here. He could do the responsible thing and just cut Julien down but, with a shameless amount of satisfaction, he decided it wasn’t often he got such a fortuitous advantage over his brother and that this would be the perfect opportunity for some pay back.

“Can’t. Seem to have lost my sword in my drunken stupor, not that you’d know anything about how that happened, would you?” he said, crossing his arms.

Julien’s guilt couldn’t have been more evident – his grin was so wide, Andre honestly thought his face would split in half.

“Ok, so I may have had _something_ to do with that but you can't tell me you didn't have fun,” Julien answered cheekily, his tone hastily becoming desperate once Andre turned to leave, “Wait! Dre! Come back! You wouldn’t leave me hanging here, would you?”

"You really not going to help him?" Aphel gestured.

To which Andre simply shrugged. "Let him crucify a little longer. He has most of my childhood to make up for."

"She'll get you next Dre! You'll never be safe! Oh shi-- okay I just threw up in my mouth a little." Julien shouted after his departing brother, waiting a few moments before redirecting his desperation to the nearest person.

"Aphel? Can you please cut me down?" he asked, voice wavering a little as he tried to keep the bile down, "I think… I think if I stay like this any longer I'm going to _literally die_."

Aphel stroked her chin and knelt until she came face to face with Julien while Celeste stepped back and flashed a thumbs up to her various assistants as they passed by. "Art."

"Please, don't get so close to my face,"  Julien begged.

Aphel tersely stood and grabbed the dagger from Celeste's waist, chancing a light brush of her hand against her ass as she did and catching only a little slap on the hand. "C'mon then, I'm not cruel, okay."

It took only moments for the rope to be in pieces and Julien to be hauled naked over Aphel's shoulder into the hold.

"My rope!" someone shouted as the crowd dispersed.

 

* * *

 

The grinding of gears were almost deafening as the ship travelled under the monstrous arch, the great chains coiling to stop the gate from crashing down on top of them. The entrance to the docks was surrounded on both sides by titanic statues of beings, cowering in despair, well-worn from the wind and sea that relentlessly buffeted their terrified facades at every tide.

"Welcome home to Kirkwall everybody," Varric smirked as the ship drew up to port, the ramp lowering down at his feet.

"Giddy," replied Isabella.

Fenris shot a small smile to the dwarf, “Perhaps a few rounds at the Hanged Man this evening would constitute a home-coming celebration.”

Varric chuckled. “Sure, they love seeing your sweet face round there broody. I’ve got a contact who’ll be meeting with Red," he turned a few times to search for said man and spotted him adjusting to walking with sea-legs plus hangover, an arm around Dorian's waist. "Our Inquisitor doesn’t look like he’s ready to take the reins just yet though.”

“Shut it, Varric. I’m fine,” Julien lied, “Just need to walk it off.”

“Sure, Red, sure; you just _scream_ fine. How about we get you to the Hanged Man and shove a bowl of Pig Oat Mash in your hands, it’ll set you right again.”

Julien scrunched up his nose at the idea. That honestly sounded like _the_ most disgusting thing ever and he would have written it off completely if he wasn’t so desperate for a quick-fix. His throbbing headache and slight nausea had not been helped by Celeste’s little act of vengeance. He couldn’t even recall exactly how she’d done it, the entire thing was a blur. Perhaps drinking so heavily the night before was a bad idea. It had been fun and a pleasant distraction at the time but now… now he kind of wanted to die.

"Kirkwall, one of the worst shit-stained shem towns I ever came across," grumbled Cypress as she twisted her long salty hair up about her head. Everything she carried in a pouch or slung across her back, just as when she'd first run across their group and refused to leave. "I dunno why you always ended up here Da'ssan, so many go missing from the alienage here."

Feit had slipped off the boat, carrying something someone had asked him to haul, "I dunno…" he mumbled shyly and kept moving.

Iron Bull and the Chargers went to spot their accommodations while Cypress announced she would be scouting the alienage.

Varric stopped Julien and his siblings with a hand before they went too far, Aphel and Cullen joining the circle momentarily.

"So, I’ve got a meet up with my contact and if her resume's got even an inch of truth in it then it’ll be good for her to know exactly who she’s working with. I know her type, not only will she not be happy if she's kept in the dark about anything, but it'll make things much more difficult for her to do her job."

"What is she exactly? You're making her sound like some kind of king-pin." Celeste shifted her weight.

"Oh! Are we getting involved in criminal activities?" Gwyn chirped and tugged on Celeste's arm.

"Maker, I can't get into this," Cullen shook his head but stayed to listen anyway.

“I suppose I’m sort of required to go?” Julien groaned into his own sleeves, shielding his eyes from the world with his arms.

Andre rolled his eyes at him. He had so little regard for his responsibilities it was abhorrent! He was the leader of the Inquisition!

"Yes, you do. But I have things I need to do so Celeste is going to go and make sure you don't stuff it up," he growled.

Noticing the sudden hostility, Celeste turned to Andre. "Relax, Julien can handle this. You just focus on getting yourself some armour and then spend some time thinking nice thoughts."

Gwyn wondered what she should do, spending time with Andre would be terrific, and Julien would be pre-occupied anyway, she really shouldn't interrupt something so important.

“I'll go with you, Dre... help you pick out chest-plates or maybe a pauldron.” She turned, glancing back to see if her Templar escort, Lysette had caught up and noticed Feit looking up at one of the great big statues, flame bursting from its sword. "Feit! You coming?" she called.

"Y-yes! Where?" Feit stammered, an unusual look upon his face as he sidled up to her and Andre. "I wasn't sure whether I should… hm…" his words were interrupted by a river of thoughts.

"Is something wrong?" Gwyn nudged him.

A small sigh, but a large smile came in response. "I have someone I want to see later."

Lastly Aphel announced she was joining Julien and the group split apart to the separate roads. Just before leaving however, Celeste noticed Cullen standing at the docks, staring out across the water to another part of the city. Looking as though he was remembering something he would rather forget.


	38. A Change in the Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're back from our impromptu hiatus! (Hooray!) 
> 
> The past few months have been tough - one of us had a death in the family and writing was difficult to do for a while. We've been working our butts off the past few weeks trying getting a back-log of content going on so we can hopefully return to a more regular schedule.
> 
> Thank all of you so much for your patience! We made sure this one was extra long, just as an apology for the long wait.
> 
> ~Kim & Kill

The streets of Kirkwall quaked with such a distinct feeling of unease that Julien, even in his hung-over state, could tell the people were nervous, and could anyone blame them? They’d just marched off the ship with a contingent of both Templars  _and_  Mages; not the stealthiest of entries. Not to mention The Iron Bull’s towering presence; Qunari and Tal Vashoth alike were hardly welcome. He supposed he should thank his lucky stars they weren’t wearing any Inquisition heraldry - that would have been the final ring on the target they’d painted on their backs. He assumed however that if his Mother’s spies were here they would already recognise him from his face alone; she always did like to use him as a model for her paintings and she was basically the only person who could pin his childhood-self down willingly for any length of time.

The idea brought on a sudden wave of fear, prickling as though a thousand eyes were focused entirely on him. Flicking his gaze through the crowd he found mostly idle fishermen and dock workers chatting amongst themselves, no one he recognised. He scoffed at his own stupidity: Why on earth would his Mother send spies he’d  _recognise?_ His brain really was not with him this day, kicking a moth eaten scarf out of his way absently.

“How much farther?” Julien whined, wishing the throbbing in his head would leave him along with the sudden paranoia crowding his attention. 

"It wouldn't take so long if you focused on where you were going." Celeste mumbled, feeling a little irritated at Julien's behaviour. 

Aphel reached back and swooped a hand to his head, tousling his coppery locks. "What's wrong? I thought you'd feel right at home out here in the streets." 

"What made you think that?" he swatted away her arm. "Just because Andre tells you something doesn't mean you should believe him."

Aphel raised a brow. "You told me you used to sneak into the bars and play for coin under a false name… I wasn't talking about Andre."

"Oh, yeah,” he said quietly, embarrassed that he’d jumped to that conclusion, “Right."

"I was only joking," she smiled, attempting to be comforting.

Instead Julien just shrugged his shoulders and looked away, unwrapping himself from Dorian's arm to walk alongside Varric.

"Oh-kay." Aphel stayed by Dorian, deciding Julien might tell her what was going on when he was ready.

“He’s...” Dorian began, sighing deeply and offering an apologetic look to Aphel, “It’s not you.”

"I can tell that at least." 

Julien huffed, wishing his hearing wasn't so good. everyone was acting like he’s thrown some kind of fit! He’d just wanted to avoid any more awkward conversation. Varric noted his sourness and chuckled, slapping him light-heartedly on the back.

“Don’t worry Red, the Hanged Man isn’t far, we’re coming into Lowtown now,” he reassured, taking in a massive deep breath and letting out a satisfied sigh, “Ahhh. I missed that smell!”

Julien couldn't understand how he could be endeared to such a place; it wasn't exactly the most attractive or welcoming locale. Thousands of threatening-looking spikes lined every flat surface and stairwell, the rust from which stained the travertine walls from years upon years of stormy weather and salt-spray from the sea. It radiated a rather dismal atmosphere; he could practically  _feel_  the hopelessness of the Slaves that had hewn this place. He made sure his footing was firm as they descended a flight of stairs into the bazaar proper; he didn’t want to  _know_  the number of casualties these things caused in a year. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out which building was the Hanged Man, the giant swinging statuesque-sign was a dead give-away.

"That is a pretty impressive piece of woodwork!" Aphel mused, "shame the building didn't get the same amount of attention."

"Ahh but it gets the same amount of love." Varric grinned and ushered them all in, motioning the moderate group to a room just opposite a small staircase upwards. Varric appeared to make himself at home among the dwarven furniture, fitting so well into the setting he could have disappeared into it like a painting. "Booze anyone?"

"Why the hell not." Celeste cheered, feeling far more comfortable amongst the almost expensive looking backdrop than in the pits of Lowtown.

Dorian and Aphel politely declined while Julien raised his hand. 

"I think I actually saw some elves in here." Aphel commented, surprised due to Kirkwall's reputation. "How did that happen?" 

Varric's smile pervaded, "After all the shit that went on, nobody cares what kind of ears you have, so long as you don't turn into a crazy monster and murder everyone. Besides I think Broody and Daisy really changed the image around here."

"Lovely to see a disaster pulling people together."

"Hey that's my joke!" Varric laughed heartily and waltzed over to his liquor cabinet, producing from it a crystal decanter and a few glasses to match. They all sat around the table, Julien and Celeste next to one another with Dorian and Aphel sitting opposite. Julien caught the full mug Varric slid down to him but before he could raise it to his lips Dorian’s hand came across the top of it, pinning it to the table. 

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Amatus,” he said evenly, concern marking his expression. 

Julien let out a hum of frustration and attempted to yank the glass from his grip to no avail. “It's fine." he argued, "I don't need to be babied.” 

"Right before a meeting this important? I understand you're under a lot of pressure with all this but you can't afford to let yourself go just yet." he paused, hating himself for sounding so patronising, but he _needed_  Julien to hear what he had to say. "Besides, you're still hungover from last night. You need to take control of yourself as the inquisitor." 

A dark look came across Julien's features. "Pressure? Of course I'm under a lot of pressure, this is my  _family_ in danger here. And Celeste is drinking, why does it matter if I am too? Because I'm somehow in charge? Well don't trouble yourself because Andre's been making sure he's the one in control since he got to Skyhold." 

Celeste guiltily slid her glass in Aphel's direction. "Don't be like that Jules, He only does it out of habit, but Dorian's worried you're over-doing yourself."

"Of course I am! It's my job to be the one who fucks up! That's why he made you come with me, to hold my hand." He gestured at Celeste then twisted his hands through his hair, trying to hide his face. 

“Is  _that_  what this sour mood of yours is all about?” Dorian said, feeling his ire begin to rise, “You’re acting up like this because Andre sent her with us to help?” 

_Acting up like this?_  Julien felt his face burn red. When he said it like that it sounded stupid, made him  _feel stupid_. They were all ganging up on him, treating him like he was irresponsible and needed to be watched at all times. He had led the Inquisition just fine up until this point, damn it! 

“Shut up Dorian! You don’t understand what he’s like! Stop speaking to me like I’m a child! I was getting along fine before my family knew where I was.” 

“I’ll stop speaking to you like you’re a child when you stop acting like one!” Dorian snapped, standing up suddenly and freezing the liquid in the glass, “Since when did you even care what he thinks anyway?”

“Calm down, both of you!” Celeste interjected, trying her best to placate the situation before it got out of hand. "Everyone was relieved when we were told you were alive..” 

“Please, only relieved I finally have some pull to my name. He always does this! He always belittles me in front of everyone! He is so jealous that I'm somehow more important than him and can't help letting everyone know that it should have been him!" 

Dorian's lip quivered in his effort to calm his features, "Who cares what they think, you're the one who's made it all this way, I think that makes you a sight more qualified." 

"Exactly." Aphel exclaimed.

"Then let me have a bleeding drink." He snatched at the mug before realising it had been frozen, then pushed it out towards Dorian. "Thaw it." he demanded. 

Dorian looked aside. "No." 

Julien's anger was clearly growing as he continued to press the solid mug against Dorian's chest. "Thaw it now Dorian, don't act like my nanny." 

"I'm not your nanny, but I refuse to hasten your death by intoxication."

"Oh, you refuse to let  _me_   have a few drinks but if we were at  _your_ family gathering I doubt you'd spend a second of it sober." Julien flicked a hand passively. 

"Jules, let it go." Aphel remarked seriously.

"Oh it's just too inconvenient for me to not be utterly compliant isn't it? I've had enough of this." With that Julien slammed down his hands and the ice block of a drink as he stood, stomping briskly out of the bar.

Strangely despite Julien doing most of the yelling, all three of them sat solemn, guilty expressions on their faces. Varric on the other hand simply shook his head as though he'd seen it all before.

"I-" Dorian started looking in the direction Julien had gone. 

"I think it's best if I go after him," Aphel cleared her throat, pulling herself up and placing a comforting hand on Dorian's shoulder, "you didn't do anything wrong." she assured him. "I think I might know what he needs to hear. You'll be fine without us." 

Giving the signal to go ahead, Celeste sighed into her reacquired drink. 

With that, Aphel dashed out of the room and down the stairs quicker than Julien could abscond, meeting him in the centre of the bar and grabbing his arm. He tried to jerk it away but Aphel’s grip was far too strong and instead he ended up flopping it about crazily. 

“Leave me alone!” he snarled, growing ever more frustrated and flustered under the gaze of onlookers, “why don’t you fuck off and go laugh about how childish I’m being with Dorian? I’m sure he has some  _great_ stories of all my baby moments - you can get a good chuckle out of those too.” 

Aphel, having had just about enough of his self-deprecating attitude, cracked him hard on the cheek with a loud slap that almost sent him out of her grasp. He stumbled slightly and shot her a shocked, dumbfounded expression, his hand coming up to nurse the now-raw cheek, mouth agape. 

"Come with me now." She commanded in her inquisitor voice, "and don't be mean to Dorian, or I'll take him from you." She grappled his hand, this time a touch more gentle, taking him out into the street. 

Julien reluctantly followed, the tug on his arm reminding him of when they'd first met. How many times does he have to get dragged around by the swordswoman before he starts working on his grip? 

"Alright, alright, I'm fine now. Let me go and I'll be good." Julien huffed impatiently.

"I need to talk to you so I'm not letting you get away." She told him sternly, sitting him down on some steps at the base of someone's door-front. Julien was fore mostly feeling overlooked, not respected by Andre and perhaps even his father, but everyone's sudden seriousness seemed to be weighing on him who usually took a lighter approach to the chaos. "I'm sorry for hitting you." She began. 

Julien had perched his elbows on his knees and leant his chin in his hand. "Thanks. But my cheek will definitely bruise worse than my ego." was all he replied in a monotone voice. 

"I hardly believe that," she teased, "but it couldn't have helped you feel less babied. none of us see it that way though Jules, Dorian is worried about keeping you safe, with all that's happened recently I don't blame him for being a bit protective.. But, Andre. What you said about him, it was quite curious, imagining it is somewhat terrifying, but funny at the same time. would you like to know what it is?" 

He twisted himself and leant his back against the wall. "Why not? I get the feeling you're going to tell me anyway." 

"I tried to imagine Andre as the inquisitor." she chuckled nervously. 

An ugly sneer made its way to Julien’s face and he  _tsk_ ed dismissively. He had no idea what it was about that idea that made Aphel  _laugh -_  Andre would have been a better Inquisitor by far, that was clear as day. The man was far more responsible and well put together than Julien could ever hope to be. No amount of trying on Julien’s part could ever change the fact that he was the best of the Trevelyans. Andre was  _better than him_ on every level; he was stronger than any other man Julien knew, he could handle both physical and mental stress well, he was brilliant at strategizing, he didn’t mind filling out paperwork with his weirdly beautiful handwriting, he was firm enough to make all the hard decisions and he never,  _ever_  got scared. Who wouldn’t want an Inquisitor as noble as he was? 

But no, the world was stuck with  _Julien Francis Trevelyan:_  the all-round fuck-up and the shame of the family. What had Julien achieved in his twenty-six years of life? Nothing. Andre on the other hand?  _Andre_ had led the guard on  _so many_  successful bandit raids.  _Andre_ single-handedly caught the thief that stole the Teyrn’s wedding band a few years back.  _Andre_  had the highest arrest rate among his peers.  _Andre_ had competed in the Grand Tourney and come back with a medal.  _Andre_  this  _Andre_  that! Everybody knew Andre was the pride of the family and just loved to rub it in his face. Him just being there was making Julien feel that worthlessness he used to feel back in Ostwick creep back into the fore-front of his mind. It was driving him insane. Not to mention it felt like he had suddenly become Gwyn's favourite brother even though she was  _his_  twin. 

“You’re only saying that to placate me,” he snipped, “there’s nothing about him being the Inquisitor that warrants laughter.” 

Aphel hummed in thought. "Maybe I can see something you can't, in you  _and_  in him. Your similarities are blindingly obvious, but he lacks your adaptability Julien; you are much more empathetic than him and not so caught up by cast iron rules that would make him too stern a leader. It's probably the reason he never became guard captain." As far as her experience taught her, power that aimed to help restore peace and alliances, particularly between the Mages and Templars, couldn't be based on objective and uncompromising law; as it had been in the past. 

Unfortunately, her comments did not land the way she had intended, if anything they only stoked the flames of Julien's anger. What was that last comment supposed to mean? That his brother was not up for the job? That he was incompetent somehow? Sure he was a jerk and stuck too closely to the rules, but Julien had always thought... what  _had_  he always thought? Why was he suddenly so eager to jump to Andre’s defence? Andre would definitely not do the same for him, he  _hadn’t_ been doing that at all lately. But at the same time he couldn’t sit idly by while Aphel insulted him. He clenched his hands into fists, attempting futilely to quell his temper. 

“Watch yourself,” Julien said as evenly as he could manage, “He was more than qualified to be captain - he just stepped aside for someone more suited to the task.” 

It took a moment for Aphel to stop herself from laughing at Julien's immediate defence of Andre, despite their entire conversation  up till now. Though she admitted she would never tolerate anyone badmouthing Fey. She let out her lungful of breath. 

"So...Andre is an asshole and you love him. Why won't you go tell him this then?" she shook her head, smiling. There's must more to Andre's motives than to just to  _be the best._ they weren't children any more.

“I can’t!” Julien barked, jumping to his feet; words bursting from his mouth faster than his mind could think, “I mean, what would it accomplish? He never takes anything I say seriously. There’s far too much bad-blood between us at this point for it to make a difference.” 

“You don’t know that,” Aphel replied, pleased that she’d managed to get him to open up, even if it was only a little, “maybe it’s just what he needs to hear - maybe it's what you need to  _say._ I think the two of you have had this feud going on for so long neither of you really know each other at all any more. When was the last time either of you sat down and just talked without tearing each other apart?”

Julien ground his teeth and looked away as a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar would. Aphel continued. 

“He’s treating you like this because you've not shown or told him how capable you really are, and I  _know_ you’re capable Julien - far better than anyone else here.”

He glanced back at her with an earnest expression on his face as he waited for her to continue. She seemed to be finally getting through to him. 

“Think back to the Andre in my world; grief stricken and mad as hell. You didn’t hesitate to open up to him then, to actually tell him how you felt. The three of us only spoke for a few moments but that’s all that was needed to show him how much you've changed. You forget that up until a few months ago your entire family thought you were dead. That dead-eyed, cold man we saw in Ostwick  _existed_ here.”

Her words cut through the fog of his anger and clanged about in his head with their immense weight, his frustration all but melting away. His mind replayed the events of the time he’d spent in Aphel’s world. Andre had been... well, broken seemed to be the best word for it - broken and barely holding the shattered pieces together. It had pained him then, to see him like that. That had happened  _here_? Of course it had, Julien hadn’t bothered to tell his family that he’d survived, of course they’d assume the worst. He felt his stomach drop and a lump form in his throat, guilt bubbling away in his chest. 

Aphel gave him a sympathetic look, placing her hands on either side of his cheeks and drawing him in closer to touch foreheads together. 

“It’s never too late to reconnect, Julien. I know its hard but considering everything that’s going on, don’t you think you owe it to each other to at least  _try?”_

"Maker’s saggy balls, Aph, you have a way with words. I’ll  _consider_ it. I make no promises though.” he breathed quietly 

He had clearly meant in it jest but Aphel could see right through him. The way his voice wavered ever so slightly? It was clear as day to her he’d missed his family far more than he’d ever care to admit.

 

* * *

 

“Would you care to elaborate?" The arch of Andre's eyebrow was a steep curve across the stern lines of his face.

Gwyn was tempted to make something up, but there was something so amusing about the stuttering disbelief or gullibility that non-mages had when they heard something about life in the circle.

“Well, it was a Monday,” Gwyn shrugged simply, a grin growing uncontrollably on her face, “we were bored and the laundry was unattended... so we enchanted a bunch of trousers and had them dance around the halls for a bit. The Grand Enchanter was pretty impressed by our work and the Knight Commander found it amusing once we explained how harmless it all was.”

“How ridiculous,” Lysette huffed from Gwyn’s side, clearly not impressed by her story, “We didn’t have shenanigans like that in my Circle.”

Gwyn decided not to respond to her comment, for propriety’s sake, and continued her conversation.

 “My point was: not all Templars are bad, Feit. The ones I knew treated us all fairly. Although, from what I’ve heard from other Mages since the disbandment, Ostwick seemed to be pretty lax compared to most...”

“Clearly,” Lysette muttered but didn’t continue once she spied the glower Andre shot in her direction.

"I still can’t wrap my head around enchanted trousers - such an odd thing to charm. Don't put a spell on mine, I have enough trouble with my clothes already." He scratched at his arms, raw fibres itching his skin. He'd gotten it from Aphel, which explained the quality. "I need something nicer than these," he pouted.

They had walked into what could be described as a market of sorts, stalls on either side and even some stores with their own signs, which was new, Feit was glad to see business was slowly recovering. Slowly.

Gwyn hardly saw the stalls, instead focusing on Andre’s frequent scratching and itching. She’d noticed it earlier, him itching at it unconsciously for the most part. With his attention entirely on searching for a clothier she pulled his sleeve up before he could properly react. As she suspected: a rash.

“Shit Dre, why didn’t you say anything?” she cried, moving her hand up to heal him only to have him yank his arm free and Lysette take a step closer to her.

“Not here!” he hissed in a low voice, “we’re in the middle of a market for pete’s sake!”

“Pssh! It’s just a simple healing spell,” she said, waving a dismissive hand in Lysette’s direction. The Templar did not seem happy but she relented, falling back to her original position and keeping an eye on the crowd. 

“I’ve lived most of my life learning to be subtle with my magic. Besides, look at everyone; they’re not paying any attention. If you prefer I can go get Jules to make you an ointment. I hear he’s pretty handy with alchemy nowadays.”

He opened his mouth to say something but closed it almost immediately, giving her a pained look before breaking eye contact. She swallowed hard, suddenly feeling guilty. Had she’d said something wrong?

“Can we do it inside at least? I’d like to not take chances and there’s a smithy over there that seems to be decent.” He gestured to a small shop up a flight of death-spike-framed stairs. “You can do it while they’re working on my armour.”

Gwyn swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, following behind him as he made his way towards the building. A sudden sense of foreboding flooded over her and Cole’s words from way back in Skyhold came to her: _Sweet words hurt the most. It was for the best, not easy but for the best. She will understand, you don’t have to keep feeling guilty._ Was he still feeling guilty about not letting Celeste come to see her? As far as she knew, the two of them still hadn’t talked about it. Or maybe it was something else? Maybe she was just over thinking things, over-analysing.

“Hey Feit... do you sense anything... off about Andre?” she asked carefully.

"You mean his nervous fidgeting? Or the excessive sweating? Rapid heartbeat? Though I wouldn't call any of that 'off'."

"I suppose…"

They watched him all but burst through the door ahead of them.

Feit tried not to laugh at his haste in waving them in fervently. "He'll feel better when he's safely wrapped in metal," tucking his arms tightly around Gwyn to mimic the notion and they laughed earnestly.

“True enough!” she giggled, slipping from Feit’s grasp and tugging on his hand to move him along.

He didn’t need much encouragement, however, his long strides meant both Gwyn and Lysette had to maintain a brisk pace to keep up with him. She smiled to herself at his eagerness.

“I’ve noticed the two of you have gotten pretty close over the past week,” she said happily, “it’s good seeing Andre being… well, friendly.”

"Oh," Feit blushed, "you think we've gotten close? I mean, did he say anything to you? About me? I enjoyed talking to him while we were riding, and he seemed to like listening. Well not at first but I think I said some things about him getting married and becoming a lord that touched a nerve. But he didn't mind when I recited some poems, and he bought me lunch in, erm, that other place we were in. It was really tasty."

Lysette scoffed then chuckled, _chuckled,_ as they stepped into the smith together and let their eyes wander about the room. Mannequins and racks displayed both the practical and impractical, styles from Orlais to the Imperium, free marcher and even a Ferelden chest piece with matching Mabari hound armour.

Something clicked in her mind and Gwyn turned her head to look at Feit’s flushed cheeks properly, her smile growing a little brighter.

“Feit. Do you have a crush on my brother?” she asked, softly enough that only the two of them could hear.

 "No!" he eyed her disbelieving face for almost a second, then flicked to Lysette’s amused expression, then back to Gwyn, "I mean yes. Oh don't tell him please!" Feit grimaced, keeping his voice a low whisper. Andre was already standing at the counter, bending over to search for the attendant.

 “Don’t worry your secret is safe with me, I know a thing or two about wanting to keep crushes to yourself,” She gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, pausing for a moment before adding, “Maybe don’t gush so much when you’re around Celeste though. She’s never been good at keeping juicy gossip to herself.”

The sudden sound of a baby crying filled the room, drowning out all other noises for a moment until a door closing cut it off. Heavy boots stomping down a hallway grew louder and louder until a short, muscular woman came through the doorway behind the counter. Andre squinted his eyes at the shock of blonde hair puffing out from under the blacksmiths' bandanna as recognition struck him like a brick to the face.

"Cryda?" He said hesitantly.

The smith had taken her place behind the counter, wiping a hand lazily on a cloth poking out of her pocket. Her head lifted at the sound of Andre’s voice and her eyes met his with confusion for but a moment before she too was hit with familiarity.

"Well bugger me with a broom, if it isn't Andre Trevelyan himself!" Her harsh voice cackled roughly.

With a movement that seemed too smooth for the heavy apron she was wearing, the woman swung herself over the counter and stood next to Andre, her head barely passing his shoulder. She flashed him a devilish grin and slapped his cheek a few times with her dirty hand.

"What's this sad beard you've got going on, Butternut Pumpkin? Have you not had a chance to look in a mirror? So scraggily," she cleared her throat and put on an over the top regal accent, “How gauche Master Trevelyan.”

He slapped her hand away with a smile and pulled her into a rib-crushing hug.

“As a matter of fact I haven’t, corn-cob,” he chuckled as he pulled away, punching her lightly in the shoulder, “I thought you moved to Cumberland, what’re you doing in _Kirkwall_ of all places?”

“Kirkwall’s closer to home,” she said simply, “What brings you to my shop? I’m assuming since you’re wearing what looks like a potato sack you’re in the market for some armour?”

Andre smiled "If I'm buying from you it'll be better than just armour."

She looked him up and down as though taking mental calculations, then brought out a measuring string to his chest. "Still big as a bear," Cryda grinned, "which pieces? Just a chest plate? And who'd you bring with you? Is the elf looking for a few leaves? I'm joking! Don't look so sour. This your new girl then?"

"Certainly not!" Andre all but shouted, "That’s Gwyneth, my younger sister and with her is Ser Lysette. And ‘the elf’ this is my good friend, Feit.”

"Maker you're kidding, little Gwyn?” Cryda said, brows raised as she let her eyes take in the sight of her, “We never met but… Maker you’re tall!”

Gwyn smiled awkwardly and nodded, unsure of what exactly she was supposed to say to that. The smaller woman patted her shoulder and let her gaze fall on the Templar.

“ _Ser_ Lysette?” Cryda said, a hint of venom in her tone, “Didn’t think Templars still cared for simply escorting.”

“I am in service to the Inquisition, Serah,” Lysette said almost evenly, annoyance giving her words a slight edge, “and I have sworn to protect the Inquisitor’s sister from both herself and others.”

Andre cleared his throat, bringing Cryda’s attention back to him before the blacksmith tested her stock on the poor knight. 

“I need the chest and shoulders. But I'd rather have the entire set matching if you think you can do it in time."

Cryda scowled a little longer then returned to business. “What time are you asking?"

"Two days"

"Bloody… you won't be getting nothing new, I'll have to remodel something." Cryda griped.

Andre thought it over but nodded reluctantly. "Fine, it will still be better than anything else."

"You bet it will be." Cryda laughed and stowed the string in her pocket, “Anyway, that'll be eighty five gold – and before you ask, yes that's with the friend discount.”

With a slight grumble, Andre handed over the money. His money pouch was getting lighter and lighter by the hour. He never thought he'd be spending so much so soon but armour was important. He leaned towards Gwyn, who was still stood next to the counter with an awkward look still on her face while Feit continued about the room, moving to the racks of weapons; swords, daggers, arrows, ornamental and traditional.

“Why don’t you go look at the displays and see if there’s anything you like. We probably won’t have another chance to resupply like this until Ostwick.”

"I don't enough for any of these," Feit shrugged.

"It's fine, I do. Gwyn, you should as well," Andre continued, "That weapon you have is barely holding together."

Gwyn fingered the staff slung on her back, the lose grip unwinding as she did so. "It still works fine; I've had it forever."

"Exactly," He stated without looking back at her.

She sighed and gazed about for something that might suit her needs, finding a surprisingly large selection in a back corner, stacked innocently as brooms. Her eyes raked across the lot of them, finding one that may have been suitable; one that was shaped more like a spear but was still quite clearly magical in nature with delicately engraved embellishments and faux-runes. It was too... new though. Her current staff had character, she had a connection with it. Sure, it had gotten a little broken in the Skyhold fight but it was still perfectly safe and fine to use.

“I really don’t need one Dre. My current staff is still serviceable - it’d just be a waste of your money...” she trailed off, hoping her argument was sufficient enough to make him drop the subject.

Andre seemed to hold back on disputing and went back to discussing his desired fittings and buckles.

With occasional noises of glee, Feit continued browsing, spotting a pair of daggers that where practically identical in every way aside from the metal of the blades coming from different ores. Their glistening edges made a clean, satisfying whipping sound as he swung them forward for a test, cutting through the air like a hot knife through butter. He whistled in appreciation, further testing the weight and grip in both his hands.

“What do you think of these?” Feit asked, turning to show the others, “they’re so beautiful!”

“I think they'll serve you well. Does the weight feel right for you? No too unbalanced?” Andre said, letting his mouth curl into a small smile for the briefest of moments.

Cryda frowned, offended, and punched his arm hard, “All my daggers are perfectly weighted, nug-butt!”

Gwyn giggled at the exchange and cut across the room quickly to inspect them up close. Similar engravments to the staff she’d been eyeing adorned each blade . A glint of different colours flashed up through the etchings with each slight movement, sending what felt like slight reverberations to Gwyn through the air.

“These are enchanted, yes?” she said, daring a light touch with her fingers, “What do they do?”

“Bleeding. One cut and your enemy won't be able to stop the flow through ordinary means,” Cryda grinned, “I paid a lot to learn that enchantment, it’s certainly returned.”

“Don’t cut yourself on those,” Gwyn remarked.

“Oh I can’t pay for these.”

“I already said I would pay for them,” Andre said a little brusquely, “if they suit your needs and they feel right in your hands, then they’re worth the price. Just bring them up here.”

Feit paused but looking at the blades he couldn’t imagine leaving without them and grinned as he handed them carefully over. “Thank you.”

“How sweet,” Cryda crooned, leaning heavily on the counter top, “You’ve grown soft in your old age, egg-yolk. Tell you what, since you’ve warmed my cockles, I’ll throw in a free scabbard for each.”

“Oh shut it and take my coin already,” Andre grumbled, throwing a heavy looking pouch directly at her chest.

A door swung open and the loud crying, now escalated to screaming, filled the room once more. Gwyn’s hands immediately shot up to cover her ears, a slight scowl finding its way to her face. A ragged, tired looking man poked his head around the corner, voice barely loud enough to be heard over the din.

“Nothing will settle him, Cryda. Not even the rattle.” He turned his attention to Andre, giving him a nod of recognition and a weak smile. “Andre. Thought I heard you back here. Love the beard.”

Cryda groaned and pocketed the pouch quickly, intending to jump over the counter again before Andre’s hand stopped her, tugging her back to her feet.

“I’ll see if I can sort him out,” he said with confidence, “keep an eye on those three while I’m gone, will you?”

Gwyn watched as Andre slipped into the back room with the tired man and finally lowered her hands to her sides. It felt a little odd, seeing Andre being so relaxed and familiar with these strange people. That was a silly thought - they weren’t strange to him, they were his friends. She suddenly felt a little sad. Thoughts of her own friends from the circle flooded into her mind. How many had survived? Did any of them have children now?

“Always trying to fix other people’s problems, that one,” Cryda said with an exasperated sigh.

She jumped the counter anyway, crouched behind it and came back up with the aforementioned scabbards, sliding each blade into its respective encasing. She slid them both towards Feit with a flourish.

“I believe these are yours, Messere Feit,” she said with faux formality and a grin.

“You’re very talented,” he charmed, instantly finding a place for each weapon along his spine.

“I know. Comes from years of practice and putting up with that insufferably stubborn brother of yours, Gwyneth. Even if I wanted to give up he wouldn’t let me,” she said with a warm smile.

The door creaked open sooner than expected and Andre wandered out with a tiny baby swaddled in a soft looking cloth nestled in his arms. He went out into the centre of the room, barely acknowledging anyone else as he bounced it gently, humming what could barely be considered a tune as he went. The tired man padded out as well, coming over to lean on Cryda with an arm about her waist.

“He stopped crying as soon as Andre picked him up. Has a knack for it, he does,” he said sleepily, “think we can convince him to keep him?”

Cryda snorted and smacked his arm with little force.

“He’s so... gentle. No idea which of you he inherited that from,” Andre chuckled softly. “You’re both so lucky... having a nice, normal family life like this.”

"Normal you say? I guess most things would appear normal to a Trevelyan. It's a damn blessing your younger sister made it out of those bloody towers," she moved to Gwyn as she spoke and gave her a warm but short hug, "Andre never stopped talking about you from the first day till the last I saw him."

It took Feit back, he'd forgotten that Gwyn hadn't been with her family for half of her life, and by her own parent’s decision too. "I can't imagine why your family would send you away. Nobody can choose to have magic, but you can choose to pick up a knife, it wasn't right."

Andre and Gwyn both went silent while Cryda nodded in agreement and Lysette kept her mouth visibly pursed, clearly not wanting to further agitate.

"You've got that right. Putting all those people in a tower, never allowed to leave and watched every minute of your life? Any one woulda gone crazy." Cryda said quietly

"Exactly!" Feit cried.

"It wasn't that bad-"

"I should start heading back to the inn, I just remembered I have some important business to attend to,” Andre said abruptly, cutting Gwyn off mid-sentence. She shot him a confused look and after a few beats too long, he added, “The meeting - I need to make sure Julien isn’t skipping out or making any foolish decisions."

He closed the space between himself and Cryda, gently but also forcefully passing her the infant. "I'll return in a couple of days to retrieve the armour and say my goodbyes."

Before anyone could say anything in response, Andre whipped around and headed straight for the front door, opening it with such force Gwyn feared he would rip it off its hinges. He stopped before he could fully cross the threshold. "Ser Lysette. Keep them safe and have them back before sundown. Kirkwall is not renowned for its safe streets." And with a quiet click of the door closing, he was gone.

“Of course, Messere. I’ll keep close watch,” Lysette promised, nodding.

Gwyn frowned at his odd behaviour and a sick feeling began to swell in her stomach. There was something seriously wrong with her Brother; and she was beginning to think it was her.

"Did you… say you wanted to visit someone?" Gwyn sighed, turning back to Feit who had retracted a little within his shell at the scene.

"Did I? Oh yes of course, do you want to come too?"

She shrugged. "I'd love to, and I don't have anything of my own to do."

Cryda waved them out and they walked up the endless steps of the city until they reached what could only be considered a castle-fortress. Made mostly of stone and steel. Even more wallowing statues encircled the perimeter of the courtyard below, and the hundred or more steps they climbed just to reach the door made sore adventurers of them all.

"Is this meant to be a castle or something?" Gwyn coughed.

"Only if castles are meant to wear out and chafe the thighs of anyone who tries to enter."

"So, yes." Gwyn tried to laugh but continued coughing.

Inside were even more stairs, thankfully only a few, enough to take them down into the city guard's barracks and offices. Gwyn couldn't help but hold her breath at all the armour-clad figures within the building, the staff on her back suddenly feeling as though it were made of lead. Her eyes raked the crowd for that all-too familiar flaming sword insignia. During her time in the tower, she had no fear of Templars for they were only doing their job and if she hadn't done anything wrong what could she possibly have to fear from them? Her time outside the circle, as an apostate, had changed her outlook somewhat.

Most of the ones she'd encountered were so angry and quick to draw their swords, and could she blame them? In some respects, they had been just as trapped within the system as she was. It was the mage rebellion that had caused both the Seekers and the Templar Order to sever connections with the Chantry. She highly doubted Lord Seeker Lambert had thought of all the knights who now didn't have access to Chantry-controlled Lyrium supplies when he'd done that. She'd heard what Lyrium addiction could do to a person; how it changed them, how it more often than not killed them. If she were in their shoes, she'd be mad too.

She felt a hand on her back and she turned to see Lysette guiding her along, keeping her eyes scanning the crowd too. Gwyn took a little comfort in knowing Lysette was on the lookout, protecting her. She was loyal, dedicated. If anyone tried to take her or attack her, Lysette would be there to back her up.

Feit tugged at her elbow and hurried her along, practically dragging her up to a large door. Knocking twice, there was no answer, so Feit knocked again as a few young soldiers approached to question what their business was with the captain. Thankfully the door creaked open and Feit jumped into a hug without hesitation.

Aveline, with her copper hair, green eyes wide with surprise, heaved him up off the ground. "Am I getting shorter? Or did you grow some when I haven't been looking?"

"You could say that, but you've definitely gotten shorter too." Feit teased.

Aveline opened the door all the way and beckoned the two of them into her neat office, the smell of books and wood polish subtle against the fragrant Marigolds sitting in a vase upon her desk.

"This is almost a surprise Feit, I haven't seen you for a year or so now, that's probably the longest time you've disappeared."

Feit felt a little bad hearing it, but Aveline wasn't angry, just worried. "I've been fine, I've been travelling with the Inquisitor! Can you believe it? This is his sister, Gwyn. This is Aveline. Oh and Ser Lysette, she's Gwyn's guard."

Gwyn and Aveline shook hands with a nod while Lysette kept a respectable distance, standing vigil at the door.

"Feit, you probably shouldn't be telling people all that, we are kind of meant to be… undercover I guess." Gwyn whispered.

Aveline chuckled and waved. "I know nothing, didn't hear a thing."

"Oh, but, oh." Feit sighed. "Still, it's been incredible, he's definitely taller than they said and better with a bow. Julien loves blueberries, I always see him eating them and his horse is this wild lizardy thing that tries to eat my hands when I feed it. Oh and he has this brother, Andre, who's as big as a bear, but he's kind of a nervous guy. He saved me when I fell off the ship. Celeste is kind of scary because she always seems to know what I'm thinking..."

"My, my. And what about your friend here?" Aveline nodded curiously.

"Oh! This is Gwyn! She’s... well she's been a really good friend to me," Feit spoke with just the barest embarrassment, “I think we have a lot in common."

Gwyn flushed happily and Aveline crossed her arms, tucking her hair behind her ear, "I hope that doesn't mean breaking the law."

Feit looked a little offended, raising his hands defensively. "Do you have to keep bringing that up? I wasn't hurting anyone."

"What? What did you do?" Gwyn turned, curious as a ferret.

"Sleeping on people's roofs is disturbing."

"It's free space! They're not using it." Feit moaned, covering his face.

"That is the most boring crime I've heard of," Gwyn teased, "Did you get punished?"

"Community service," Aveline grinned.

"Why are you still so happy about that?" Feit asked, dejected.

She shrugged.

"So, the inquisitor? I've had help from him with the attack from _Prince_ Vael,” She spat, agitation and hurt evident in her tone, “Bloody pompous ass, thinks he can exalt Kirkwall. Well it won't be happening on my watch, that's for sure."

"Why would someone attack here? With everything that's going on?" Gwyn queried.

"Ridiculous, isn't it? But apparently Sebastian made Kirkwall his 'pet project' after seeing firsthand the Anders incident. If he isn't happy with our choices then he should focus on ruling his own damned city." Aveline looked close to bursting a vein, her fists were clenched tightly across her chest as she stared holes into the floor. Clearly being betrayed by a man she'd considered 'friend' was still a raw wound.

"I can't imagine what that must be like." Feit mumbled. "I mean Aphel went a bit weird on the way here, but it wasn't really her. If she'd known what she was doing and was still choosing to hurt us, that would have been…scary."

Gwyn nodded. "If it makes you feel any better, I think he must really think he's doing what's best. Even more so because you were his friend."

 "It doesn't," Aveline sniffed.

 

* * *

 

 A few hours later, Gwyn and Feit found themselves stood in front of the Hanged Man, having been practically dragged back by Lysette. The giant sign for which the tavern got its name, swung heavily back and forth with the strong evening wind that blew through the city, kicking up dust and trash haphazardly into the air as the come storm grew ever closer. Feit barreled into the heavy door ahead of Gwyn, eager to get out of it before it blew him along as well.

“C’mon, Gwyn! What’re you staring at?” he yelled over the gale, standing safely inside while she stood squinting and gawking around.

“The sign looks as if it’s about to fly off its hinges!” she shouted out, still a little stunned at the spectacle of it. Lysette’s hand came to her back once more and urged her along.

“Come on, before you catch a cold,” she barked over the wind.

Gwyn huffed a little but complied. She was starting to get a little sick of being dragged along by her. Why couldn’t she stand and look at things? If she caught a cold she’d simply heal herself! She’d spent her entire life in a tower, a little sightseeing wouldn’t kill her!

She shook her head as she passed through the door. That was uncalled for. Lysette was only doing what was best and her little mood swing was born of hunger. A spoonful of stew would fix her up. There would be time for exploration tomorrow.

Inside, the tavern was packed. Many of the sailors from the ship were hanging about the bar, drinking and singing away. Feit grabbed Gwyn’s wrist and lead her through the crowd, losing Lysette and shoving people left right and centre until they reached a large table at the back where Varric, Cole, Bull, Aphel, Solas, Celeste and Blackwall sat.

“Gwyn, Feit you’re back! Thank the Maker,” Celeste breathed a sigh of relief and beckoned the two of them to sit, “I was worried you two wouldn’t make it in before the storm.”

"We're here and we're hungry. Where's Andre and Julien?" Feit skipped around to an empty seat next to Cole.

“Andre is upstairs,” Blackwall replied, pausing for a moment to pop a roasted potato into his mouth, “stormed up there a few hours ago, said something about being busy and not wanting to be disturbed. Not sure if the Inquisitor is up there or not.”

 Gwyn raised a questioning brow and Bull nudged her side before punching his fist into his palm a few times, making a loud pounding sound. “He’s probably up there with Dorian – _making up_.”

Blackwall furrowed his brow and shook his head in a mix of exasperation and awkwardness. “It’s none of our business and we shouldn’t make assumptions.”

Gwyn was still thoroughly confused. How could they _not_ know if he was there or not? What did Bull mean, making up? Did they have a fight or something? Celeste offered her a plate of peas and smiled.

“He hasn’t come through the front door but you know Jules: he’s a bit of a climber. Although if he _is_ up there… I’d rather not think about what he’s doing.” She made a slightly disgusted face.

Aphel just laughed and began copying bull's mime a little closer to Celeste's ear. Slap, slap, slap. To which Celeste tried grabbing Aphel's arms to stop her.

"Stop! I'm not kidding, I'm going to be traumatized!"

Gwyn had sniffed at the drink placed in front of her but her mind was too far off to pay attention to what was going on. Andre had _stormed_ up there. Stormed as in not happy. Guilt bubbled within her and with it, her appetite dispersed.

"I should check on him," she murmured.

"No Gwyn don't!" Celeste begged a little more seriously.

"She meant Andre." Bull laughed.

"Oh, okay. He's probably knitting or something. He does crafts when he's stressed."

"You think he's stressed?" Feit asked.

Celeste frowned, remembering when he'd come back; striding with an especially tense expression as he came over to the table, joining the meeting with their Tactician. He’d kept mostly quiet, making suggestions here and there but oddly not complaining once about the smell or the furnishings or even Julien’s absence before he went upstairs.

"Yes, for sure. I'm good at reading him."

Gwyn nodded solemnly and rose from her seat, placing a reassuring hand on Feit’s shoulder before moving towards the stairs. The wood of the stairway was so mismatched from the rest of the tavern, she wondered briefly if it had been an afterthought or a recent renovation. It creaked only slightly as she ascended to the top, the music and chatter from below getting further and further until it was barely a quiet hum in the distance. As she walked down the hallway to his room, a deep sense of foreboding hung heavily across her.

The door stood before her and she paused, waiting a few moments to psych herself up. Feeling like this, like she couldn’t or shouldn’t be here, that she couldn’t talk to him about this, was foreign to her. What had changed? She hadn’t done anything to actively hurt him, had she? She didn’t recall saying anything wrong.

_It is not you - it is him. He is suffering from pain he inflicted unto himself._

Gwyn nearly jumped out of her boots at the sound of Fortitude's baritone voice.

_Fear not, Gwyneth. I am here with you._

She nodded to both herself and to Fortitude. It was odd, having his voice in her mind, but somehow she wasn’t afraid any more. If anything, she felt bolstered - stronger. She took a step forward and knocked firmly on the door.

'Andre? It's Gwyn. May I come in?' 

The sound of papers being shuffled about and a window being shut firmly came faintly through the small gap between the ill-fitting door and its frame.  His heavy footfalls grew closer and closer until their shadows peeked out from beneath the heavy wood. For a few moments there was silence and Gwyn could just picture him standing there with his hand out, contemplating whether or not to let her in.

A chain clinked as it was slid out of its track and a key rattled in the lock before the door creaked open. Andre nodded at her and stood to the side as she wandered in. The room was a decent size, with a double bed, a chest of drawers, a small brazier in the far corner and a ratty looking desk near the only window, covered in lit candles and paper with a bottle of ink and a quill. 

"Have you been writing?" She asked absently as she stood awkwardly in the centre of the room.

He cleared his throat and nodded again, closing the door and replacing both locks before cutting across the room and leaning against the desk. She noted the ink stains on his fingers and the piles of crumpled up letters littering the ground.

'Quite a lot by the looks of it. Having trouble?"

He cleared his throat awkwardly and opened and closed his mouth a few times, completely flustered. Gwyn giggled.

"Are you writing to Josephine?" She teased, giving him a knowing smile. 

The dumbfounded look on his face only made Gwyn giggle more.

"Y-yes. No… Maybe?” he coughed awkwardly into his hand and sighed, “I’m not sure if I should. When I went to Skyhold I’d hoped…” He fiddled awkwardly with his hands. “I’d hoped we’d be able to talk but… she’s very busy and… and- “

He closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. This seemed to be a tough topic for him to speak about and Gwyn was honestly surprised he was even opening up to her, after he’d been so awkward earlier. Perhaps this was something that’d been on his mind for a while. So she crossed the room and patted his shoulder reassuringly.

“… and? It seems like you really need to get this out, Dre. Take your time – I’m listening”

He kept quiet for a moment longer before continuing.

“I’ve been rather… infatuated with her for a while now but… well we don’t really know each other that well, do we?”

Of all the things he could have said, that was something she’d _not_ been expecting.

“I’m thirty now, Gwyn - I’m getting old. I can’t keep pretending and waiting for her when she… “ A bitter look came across his face, “That experience I had in the Fade was wonderful but the more I think about it, the more I realise how… how _wrong_ it was. It was all about _me_ , about how _I_ pictured my perfect life to be. I don’t know her at all; I don’t know what she likes to do in her spare time o-or even what her favourite colour is. We’ve come across one another several times; at various parties and at Skyhold but we’ve never… well, connected. Talked.”

He paced back and forth, running a hand through his hair.

“You could _make_ the time to get to know her, write her letters or go back to Skyhold with Julien when this is all over,” Gwyn said, trying her best to be comforting but Andre just shook his head.

“As much as I would like to, somehow I don’t think Julien would like that very much,” he let out a long sigh, shoulders sagging as if he had finally come to a decision, “Besides, she’s already engaged.”

Silence permeated the room while Gwyn stood in dumbfounded stillness, mouth slightly agape. The sad, dejected look on his face made her heart ache for him.

“Andre-”

“I overheard her talking to Sister Nightingale back in Skyhold. Apparently, Celeste and Aphel were teasing her about her… fondness for me and she didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t just call off the engagement because of a crush and I wouldn’t expect her to. As I said, we barely know each other.”

Gwyn stepped forward and grasped his hand in her own, holding them up and squeezing them encouragingly.

“You could challenge him to a duel!” she said desperately, “You’d be able to beat him, I’m sure of it! And that would prove how much you care for her.”

“That would end horribly. I’m not the best at controlling my aggression… and I don’t think a mutilated corpse would win her heart. Gwyn, I think it’s for the best if I just...” he dropped out of her grip and sighed again, “If I just let her go. She’s doing what’s best for her family, I can’t fault her for that. Perhaps in another lifetime we could have…”

“Andre,” Gwyn said, voice cracking slightly, “you sell yourself short. You are wonderful and I’m sure she sees that too.”

He gave her a shocked expression, like he hadn’t been expecting such kind words, then broke eye contact and stared intently at the brazier.

“Maybe. It doesn’t matter anyway, there’s nothing I can do about it now. Forget I mentioned it."

She frowned at him as he visibly straightened, putting up that same wall he had earlier, shutting her out once again. He brought his hand to rub the back of his neck awkwardly but in doing so revealed the rash on his arm once more. 

"Aww geez Andre! Come here," she chided, grabbing his wrist and dragging him over to the bed, forcing him to sit down, "you ran off before I could heal you..."

Andre flattened his collar and fiddled with his cuffs, trying his best not to scratch while she poured her spell over the skin. It was incredible the speed at which it worked, he found his mind going blank as he watched her work.

A few minutes later the silence was broken as Gwyn let him be with a smile, "All done."

"Yes, it's well done, thank you." he cleared his throat and she did the same.

"Say Andre-"

"Gwyn-"

They spoke at the same time, however Andre motioned for her to speak first.

"Did, I mean was there something I'm doing, or did, to upset you? I just get this sense that you're not quite the same as before. Especially with me."

“It’s not you,” he sighed.

“Are you sure?” Gwyn shrugged in that self-deprecating way that made her appear exactly like Julien, “because it really does feel like me...”

His self-loathing was reaching a pinnacle, with all that was happening he knew he needed to do or say something to lighten the titanic weight upon his chest, crushing him further every time he tried to take a breath. Gwyn was special. She’d been someone he could talk to, be childish with, and escape the realities of his enumerable anxieties. Having the thick pane of glass between them would only serve to close off that precious relationship. Andre knew that it was time now to break it down, forever.

He gestured for her to sit beside him on the bed and he watched her feet as she came closer. Breathing was difficult, but now wasn’t the time for an anxiety attack, he would get the words out if he had to write them with his own blood.

“I care for you so much Gwyn, our times together have been some of the happiest I can remember.” He gulped at his dry throat. “And I can’t let anything threaten that. I know I’ve been behaving, oddly, but that is because I’ve been meaning to open up about something that I’ve been holding onto for a very long time and I’ve been, been afraid of...”

Gwyn could see he might be rambling for quite a while so she nodded and placed a reassuring had on his back. “I’ll listen to whatever you need to say, Dre. It’ll be okay.”

He nodded dryly.

“When you were taken to the circle, that day I’d seen you healing Julien; I told father about it. That’s why. They took you so quickly I didn’t get a chance to even say goodbye.”

The hand on his shoulder was still, her breath caught as the silence permeated.

“What?”

 


	39. Right on the Fucking Edge of Losing It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tides   
> 1/8

“It was me. I told Father. It’s my fault you were sent to the Circle,” he repeated himself, voice holding more conviction than it had the first time.

Time seemed to stop and Gwyn felt suddenly detached from herself, from the entire situation. What this real? Was what he was saying real? How could this be? It had to be false - a lie! This wasn’t real! She must still be trapped in the Fade! This was all some horrible nightmare and she would wake up any second now, she had to. That loving, caring Brother that had come to see her when no one else would couldn’t possibly have been the one to do that to her, surely not!

But he had.

His words, his confession - some part of her knew it to be true. Convincing herself that the timing had been a coincidence had been foolish. Andre always had been hard in his views - done what needed to be done, no matter the cost. It didn’t make his confession sting any less. She bit her lip in a weak attempt to stop it from quivering.

“I...” her voice wavered, unsure of what to say.

He sat patiently beside her with a look of discomfort on his face; it was clear that her silence was killing him. What could she say to this? That it was ok? That she forgave him? She wasn’t sure what to think or how to feel just yet. As much as she felt like it, getting upset with him and running away would only succeed in making things worse.

“All those times you came to see me, was that out of guilt?” she said quietly.

"No, of course not. You must know that." He pleaded quietly, trying to be as inoffensive as possible.

She nodded, but got up to pace back and forth, unable to stop herself from thinking over years of memories. More recent ones, that had before meant nothing, now came to the forefront of her attention. It had been obvious, yet in her desperation for familiarity she'd chosen not to believe. Denial was a powerful thing.

"You told Celeste she couldn't see me. I know Julien would have come if he'd known there was a way. But you kept it secret. Why? Why would you do that, Andre? Why did you want to keep me separated from them?"

Andre choked at her cold anger, unlike any expression she'd ever made before. "I was taking a risk as it was, I couldn't risk them being caught."

"Oh but you could?"

"I'm sorry."

She turned her back on him for and excruciatingly long time while she did her best not to lash out. She knew Andre. The things he did were always with the thought of his family in mind. Gwyn wanted desperately to be able to forgive him easily, but the betrayal was so permanent. Her whole life was altered because of Andre's fucking mouth.

"I know you thought you did what was best, but I don't even know what I've missed out on."

Andre couldn't form the words to respond.

"You confessed and now you're apologizing. You must know how different things could have been."

"Of course I know! You're my baby sister and I love you, I wish I'd never seen you, I wish I'd never known. I ruined your whole life and Julien's too. I know Celeste won't forgive me but I can't change what's done. I'm sorry." Andre had jumped to his feet, clenching his fists and covering his face. There wasn't any more he could possibly say so he let out a breath of hot anxiety and stilled himself, waiting for the words that would break her and him in turn. "But truthfully, I don't think I did the wrong thing."

He kept his eyes to the floor, hoping for a punch or a curse. Instead warm arms wrapped around him, heating his clammy skin. Gwyn had closed the distance between them and hugged almost chokingly against his chest, his arms were trapped but he managed to curl his large hands about her ribs.

"I understand… and I don't. The truth is, maybe it was the best thing for me to leave, it's impossible to know. My time in the Circle wasn't all that bad once I made some friends, though it did take a while… I don't resent you, I just… I'm just… I need time."

As if time had stopped, Andre pulled back from the hug, looking into Gwyn's tired eyes.

“Fair enough, I understand,” he said quietly, slipping from her grip. Gwyn watched him as his gazed flicked to the desk briefly before returning to her. “Maybe you should go get an early night, sea travel has surely taken its toll on you,” he said, patting her shoulder awkwardly.

Gwyn nodded, "Yeah. I guess I'll see you in the morning."

They walked the short distance to the door and Andre spent a few minutes fiddling with the locks while Gwyn shuffled from foot to foot. She was glad they’d gotten the chance to talk at least a little bit of this out but her feelings of betrayal and hurt were still quite raw and she was afraid if she kept up the conversation one of them would say something they’d never be able to take back.

The door swung open and she slipped back out, turning for a moment to give Andre one last look.

“Sleep well, Gwyn,” he said quietly, “No matter what you decide or how you feel about me after this, know that I love you.”

He leaned forward and kissed her on the head then turned and shut the door behind him, leaving Gwyn standing by herself in the dark hallway.

 

* * *

 

Sitting alone at a bar was something Aphel had gotten used to when she'd joined the Inquisition. It happened less after Haven was destroyed, a few had become close friends who joined the her out of more than the need for a stiff drink.

So when Solas had gone to bed and their crew who'd finished drinking were kicked out, the sailors who'd had enough of the barmaid's teasing had hired their bedfellows, vacating the floor. Aphel tapped her silver for a full mug of their imitation sourvun, feeling good the city elves' obsession with Dalish produced something worthwhile when lowering her nose to the rim and allowed the sweetness to obscure the inexorable stench of blood her mind had conjured. Some long hidden memories emerged, bobbing for an instant before sinking back down where they couldn't make her feel anything but frustration.

The templars and mages that had come were advised to keep a low profile, which was easy for those who just had to put their staves away but it was difficult to hide full body armour, so most templars, including Cullen, were looking quite vulnerable as they hunched together in their group trying not to be too obvious when they checked over their shoulders. It was amusing to see Blackwall's casual stance in contrast and Aphel couldn't hide her smile as he caught her eye.

His confused expression reminded her she was a stranger but in another way it made her glad that even in another world, Blackwall seemed to appear just when she needed company. She pat the seat beside her, cocking her head in interest, hoping he would begin a conversation with benign observations that didn't mean too much but meant enough.

When he smelt the pungent fruitiness of her drink he raised his brows. "You can drink that?"

"It's the best I've had in a while," she defended her drink playfully, "you got anything else to say?"

He called for the barman, ordering his own with some Orlesian term to which the tender rolled his eyes and went round back to fetch a dust covered bottle that took a lot of puffing to pop open.

"Here," he grunted, red faced and slammed the drink down, "Yer paying for the bottle on that one."

Aphel could smell it practically as the cork popped, a bitterness that she couldn't place from any kind of drink she'd tried before. Even Bull's choices had some notes of familiar ash, or simply white hot alcohol. This was like too many things had been mixed up that none of it resembled anything familiar.

"What in- _Mythal_ , can you drink that?

"I believe the question is, can you?"

"More like do I want to projectile vomit my insides over the walls?"

His barreling laughter warmed her more than her sourvun. "It's not that bad, just try it. You'll see."

He wasn't wrong and the taste did become familiar; like the smell of feet after a month long walk. "You're - kidding me-" she coughed.

"Well what's in yours?" he challenged with a laugh.

The drink had burned her throat and made her heart stumble as though it had tasted death. "Something that's meant for the living, Warden, have you tried to kill Julien like this too? He's got a belly for the booze but he seems to prefer rum and wine to… that."

Blackwall swished a mouthful around, killing anything in his mouth before he swallowed and replied. "Expensive tastes from a man with a name and title. Honestly if I tried to drink with him I'd probably be escorted away by the brother."

 "I like the way you say that - _'the brother'_." Aphel cringed as if she'd taken another sip of Blackwall's drink. "He really seemed to have it out for you, and I don't think I've seen him look at you once without it being a stink eye. What is his problem?" Aphel couldn't think of any reason why the two wouldn't get along, except for Andre being himself. 

While talking about alcohol was adequately distracting, Blackwall looked as though he'd been waiting for the questions to arise. "I... betrayed the Inquisition's trust. I wasn't upfront about my past and when they found out...  It put everyone in serious trouble. All because I'd lied. I should have just told Julien from the start...” he sighed, “Not much I can do about it now though, I still don't know whether i should be glad that Julien has a kind heart."

His straightforward response was unexpected, and it almost made Aphel drop the subject altogether before she realised he hadn't actually told her what had happened. Blackwall might have been purposely avoiding it, but the way he was describing it made her fear that this was more serious than she'd expected. What if he told her something that changed her perspective, that altered everything? But what if knowing could help avoid this 'serious trouble' altogether? And to be perfectly honest, the curiosity was killing her.

"What was it that you didn't tell him?" She prodded. If he refused this time she'd drop it.

He sat in silence for a moment, saddened by the loss of a strong friendship with Julien. After what had happened in Val Royeaux, Julien had been distant. He never came down to the stables to talk to him anymore and only spoke in common courtesies. With a sigh, he continued talking, "You must know that most wardens were once criminals, don't you?"

She nodded ascent; it was common knowledge even among the clans. However the Blackwall she knew spoke little of himself and a question of trust made her hesitate; would her Blackwall tell her if she had asked? Was she betraying his trust by finding out his personal story this way? But if it had made such a huge impact on the Inquisition, maybe that overrode those boundaries? "Was it that bad?"

At that moment the lull of the bar was shattered by the door slamming open. A familiar dwarven woman barrelled through, unconcerned with curious onlookers, directly into Varric's room; the rather dire look on her face speaking volumes of her mood. If that expression was anything to go on, their conversation was about to be cut short.

 

* * *

 

In the middle of the storm, the Inquisitor trudged alone through the now muddied streets in the direction of the Hanged Man, hood pulled tightly over his head and arms wrapped securely around his torso to keep in the warmth. If the wind and the rain weren’t enough to make Julien feel awful and dreary, the thought of returning to the tavern certainly did.

Hindsight was a terrible thing and so were the things he’d said to Dorian before he’d left in a huff. These tantrums and subsequent avoiding spells had to come to an end. Was this all he did now? Make a fool of himself then run from the shame? Come to think of it, until the Inquisition that was what he’d always done: run from everything - from responsibility, conflicts, embarrassment - the list was endless. Dorian hadn’t deserved to take the brunt of his frustration. Aphel’s words rung true in his mind: if he had a problem with Andre he should just be upfront and somewhat civil about it instead of taking it out on other people. It wasn’t fair and frankly, it wasn’t healthy either.

He released a sigh and a shiver as he rounded the corner and up a flight of stairs, stopping as he came to that dreadfully apparent sign swinging back and forth wildly. Hopefully that thing was secured well enough - the last thing he need was it to come down on top of him. He took a few steps towards the front door and stopped. The thought of walking in there sopping wet was not an attractive one. That left only one option; climb up. Perhaps not the smartest or safest plan to execute in the middle of a storm but it was what he was going to go with.

He stood back a bit and glanced at all the windows until his eyes landed upon one that was propped open by what looked like Dorian’s staff. That made Julien smile to himself. Of course Dorian had anticipated this, he knew Julien far too well.

Julien made quick work of the ascent; sneaking in and out of the estate in Ostwick and climbing around the rooftops in Skyhold made sure of that. He pulled himself up onto the sill and carefully slid the window up enough to slip under, quietly returning it to its original position. The room was so, _so_ toasty, Dorian must have had the fire going while he was waiting for him to return. A bolt of guilt flashed through him and he glanced over at the bed and to Dorian’s sleeping form.

He sighed and began to undress, laying his wet clothes and boots out in front of the dying embers of the fireplace to dry. He would apologise to him tomorrow, the last thing he wanted to do was disturb him at this hour. Once he slipped into his comfortably warm pajamas he padded over to the bed, carefully pulling back the sheets and slowly slipping into the bed, facing away from Dorian.

From habit, and from the purposeful evenness of Dorian's breath, Julien seemed to assume him to be sleeping soundly; having wriggled down softly and brought the edge of the blankets about his neck. Dorian waited for the rogue to test if he really was asleep, intending to make it clear that he wasn't and that his unmoving reception was an act of denial in the wake of Julien's oafish behaviour.

But clearly Julien wasn't getting it.

Searing hot hands on Julien's back abated his oncoming dreamy state. "Dor? You're awake? I know you're mad and I want to apologise," he attempted to roll and face the mage but the hands refused him. "I was frustrated and I shouldn't have taken it out on you, it was so shitty of me."

The hands softened a little, one coming around across his hip, tugging and squeezing it's way to the dip in his pelvis.

"You aren't mad?" Julien whispered curiously. Dorian was fondling his abdomen and thighs, squeezing himself against Julien's back. His intentions were clear. "Please Dor say something. We can't just pretend like nothing happe- _aoh!_ " Dorian's warm hand had slipped beneath the fleecy pyjama pants and gripped his balls firmly. "Ah, see I _knew_ you were mad."

Dorian gave a firm squeeze - just enough to make Julien squirm and, after a few extended moments, he sighed. “I’m not mad, Julien.”

“You say that...” Julien squeaked, “but you have me in a death-grip. That tells me something is going on.”

"I'm upset that you refused to listen to my advice or my concern." Instead he'd thrown it back in Dorian's face just to make a point. "I know it was hypocritical of me asking you not to drink but I was hardly telling you to quit altogether."

Julien hard already thought it over tenfold and knew he'd been in the wrong. "I'm sorry. I was-"

Another firm squeeze cut him off, this time he felt teeth brushing the tender of his neck.

"Stop saying sorry. I know you're sorry and I accept your apology."

Julien breathed, "-but?"

"But I'm still feeling raw about it. So stop being so apologetic and let's have some I'm-annoyed-at-you-but-I-can't-keep-my-mouth-off-you sex."

"N-no. I think we should talk about this properly, Dor," Julien wheezed, trying to squirm out of Dorian's grip to no avail. "I've been an absolute ass lately - I don't want it to become a trend."

"Okay, then that's that." Dorian nipped a few more times across his shoulder. "Now let's make some use of it."

"Dorian please. I know you've never really had a serious relationship, so it isn't exactly second nature for you to talk about feelings… But I need you to know how I feel and how important it is that I don't treat you like that again."

Julien had reminded himself of Marlow; dismissive and cruel for no reason. It was one thing to be upset but another to make Dorian feel all but guilty for expressing his concerns and apprehensions. It felt disgusting to know he'd behaved like _him_.

"Please don't ever feel like you can't say things like that because of how I might react. It makes me sick knowing I used your personal issues against you."

Dorian was somewhat silent, nuzzling the shaved downy hairs of Julien's neck.

"Do you understand?" Julien asked.

"Mmm. Yes. I won't let you bully me. You big bully."

"I'm not kidding!" Julien wriggled and tried to thump his fist to Dorian's thigh. "I love you, Dorian. So, so much it's… it's-” he sighed, bringing his hand up to grasp Dorian’s arm to hold it closer to himself while also pressing back against his warm body.

The gesture coaxed a low moan from Dorian’s mouth which then peppered hot kisses that trailed from the back of Julien’s head, down his neck and across his shoulders. He propped himself up on one arm and planted more kisses across Julien’s jaw and cheek, ending up at the corner of his mouth.

“I know, Julien. I understand how you’re feeling, I do. I’m just... so turned on right now i can’t think very coherently,” he chuckled as he wiggled his arm free from Julien’s grip and ran it up his side tenderly, “what I do know right now is that I love you too; no matter how loutish you may act sometimes.”

They cuddled closer, snug against each other as Dorian ground himself against the dip of Julien's tailbone, his hand finally reaching down to do the same to his lover. Julien's heart felt full to bursting and it only made his dick stain harder from attention.

A hard knocking, or clanging rather, stilled them beneath the sheets. Varric's voice rung through the tick door, calling them as though from sleep. Julien resentfully detached himself and stumbled to the door, adjusting himself to avoid being half-mast right at Varric's eye level.

"What?" he grunted.

Strangely Varric barely even took in Julien's appearance, just delivered his announcement with urgency.

"Rift opened, just outside of the city. _My_ city. We need to get to it now."

Seriously? Julien was astounded. Had things gotten so bad? "You're joking."

"Afraid not. So get out of your jammies and gear up. I'll get Aphel too. Two of you is better than one."

So it appeared Varric knew about Aphel. Not surprising but it made him wonder who else knew. He supposed it wouldn't matter soon enough, after they exterminated the demons it would be impossible to hide from anybody who was around. But then again they weren't trying very hard to keep it secret, what difference would it make now?

With a disheartened sigh, Julien closed the door. Of course there would be a Rift tonight - why wouldn’t there be? It’s not as if he’d been looking forward to sleeping in a nice, comfortable bed with Dorian or anything. He shook his head to himself and walked quickly to where his still-wet clothes were. Blegh. This was going to be an extremely uncomfortable Rift-run.

“Don’t suppose you can dry these for me, Dor?”

"Come back here." Dorian rolled over lazily.

He could. He could go over there, get under the blankets into that soft, warm bed and get back to canoodling with Dorian. Aphel was technically the Inquisitor as well; she’d probably taken care of as many Rifts as he had so it wasn’t as if Kirkwall would be completely undefended. Just going back to bed would be so easy and so, so nice.

The sound of Dorian’s hand patting mattress was like a siren’s song and before his mind caught up with his body he had a knee on the bed and a hand firmly supporting his weight as he leaned over, eager to get his mouth on any exposed skin.

He started with the hand, planting small kisses here and there, peppering all the way up to those beautiful shoulders, then onto the hard line of the collarbone and finally he reached the most tender part of Dorian's neck, holding there and nuzzling until he drew out those delicious sounds that drove him crazy. He pulled back for a moment to examine the pleased look on his lover’s face.

“Well don’t stop,” Dorian half laughed. He sat up, leaning heavily on one arm and craning his neck slightly as to press his lips against Julien’s.

Julien’s eyes fluttered shut and for a moment he was lost in the sensation; the warmth, the softness, the utter and complete feeling of adoration and love. He kept them shut tight as he felt Dorian break away, one of his hands coming up and around Julien’s shoulder, trying to pull him back down to the bed. Julien released a shaky sigh. He couldn’t, shouldn’t. He had a responsibility - it was his duty to go deal with whatever was waiting for him outside the city gates.

“Dor... I can’t. I have to go...” he said with reluctance.

“No you don’t,” Dorian’s hand came up to cup Julien’s cheek, “Aphel is here. Would it be so bad to let her take care of just this one?”

Julien shook his head.

“I can’t just leave it to Aphel - this is our world, not hers. It’s my responsibility to protect it, not only as the only person with, this thing,” he said a little venomously as he shook his marked hand, “but as the Inquisitor and as a man with a conscience. I can’t soundly lay here with you while others risk themselves. I won’t let everyone down, Dor - I can’t.”

After a beat or two of his heart he scrambled away from Dorian’s embrace and off the bed, looking about the room for a suitable stand-in for his usual clothes but came across nothing - not even their luggage. “Where are our things?”

“Still on the ship,” Dorian said with a defeated sigh, flopping back down on the bed with a slight huff.

“Damn it all! There’s not enough time to fuss about with this and I can’t very well go in my pyjamas now, can I?” Julien huffed, a thought suddenly worming its way in his mind, “you think your clothes would fit me?”

Before Dorian could properly respond, Julien had sprinted around the bed and ripped off his pyjama pants and started stepping into the tangle of leather and straps. It took more than a little effort to get everything sitting right - he’d taken these off more times that he could count but putting it on at another perspective was a whole new experience in and of itself.

“You can be quite full of conviction, you know that? Can’t believe you're actually going - I'm still horny, and so are you. And now I have nothing to wear... not that I don’t think you look utterly stunning in that," he gave him an appreciative once-over.

“You don’t have to wear anything,” Julien said, walking those few steps back to the bed and planting a small kiss on his temple, “stay here and rest. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“But-”

“Don’t worry I will come back. How many times have I done this now?”

“Very well. But if you aren’t back by sunrise, I shall be leading a search party myself.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Julien made it down the stairs with all his supplies in hand, a small group had formed. Aphel, Blackwall, Solas, Bull, Varric and a Dwarven woman all stood at the ready, Varric in particular looking a tad impatient.

"Red, this is the contact, Fletcher," he introduced her in the most simple terms. "Is this everyone? Good, I've got someone sending a message to Aveline so we'll have back-up if it gets messy... _Messier_."

The gang began filing out with precision and just as Julien leapt to tuck into the crowd, he was pulled up short by a firm grip on his loose sleeve.

"What's going on Julien? Where are you all going?" Andre quizzed him hurriedly. He stood on the landing of the stairs, clad in his pyjamas with the hand embroidered horse silhouette on the collar.

"There's a rift near the mountains. I don't have time to stop and chat." Julien told him and tried to pull away.

"Why wasn't I woken? This is serious!" Andre asked sincerely, letting his brother free.

"Exactly and I'm the man with the means to close it, so it's me they come to. Just go back to bed. We'll have returned by morning and I can't wait around for you to plate up."

The Inquisitor jogged out the door as Andre threw a frustrated thump against the banister, turning and flying back up to his room. He slapped on his pants and shin guards, but had no chest plate to speak of, not for the next day either. He paced for far too many seconds, mind scrambling for answers which were determined to evade him, in the end reaching the torturous conclusion that he would simply have to go without.

At once a tapping on the window alerted him and he watched it slide open as Feit's legs and arms sprawled their way into the room, the perfectly polished daggers Andre had bought him that morning glinting proudly upon Feit's belt as he bent to close the window again.

"Feit, what are you doing? I can’t linger."

"Why?" he asked simply, watching the horses leave out the window. "Where are they going? What is everyone rushing about for?"

Andre unbuttoned his pyjama shirt and folded it tidily. "Julien and your sister have gone to deal with a rift. I need to be there to make sure he's safe."

Feit caught his breath as he glimpsed Andre's reflection in the glass, his chest was gorgeous and shoulders looked fantastically burly. It was a tough fight; willing himself not to turn around. "I-I can come too."

"I suppose so, _argh_ , I need my armour! Of all the moments-" His aggravated breath came is controlled bursts. "Help me, please?"

Quickly heading to the call, Feit's nimble hands dealt with the straps on Andre's shoulder pauldrons and wrist guards and the job was done in a quarter time, even as he stalled a few moments, failing at being subtle while he admired Andre's physique.

"Feit?"

"Alright, let's go." Feit exclaimed and lead the way out the door.

As they walked towards the horses a thought struck Andre. "How can we follow them? I don't know where they went exactly, just that it was outside the city, near the mountains."

"I've got this." Feit grinned and jumped on the closest horse which bucked and whined with shock. "Err… Do you ride in front or back?"

Shaking his head, Andre whistled loudly, certainly pleased at the opportunity to show off this trick he'd practised with Pumpkin, and they both heard a loud battering, the crack and snapping of hinges wrenched from wood, and the rhythmic gallop as Pumpkin raced to them in all her muscled, sleek and scarred glory.

Pumpkin exhaled proudly and trotted to nuzzle Andre's outstretched hand.

"Good girl," he cooed affectionately to her, petting the soft, pale orange of her nose, "We aren't going on _that_ horse, Feit. Pumpkin here can get us there in a third of the time.”

Feit swallowed hard at the mere sight of the horse. She exuded a terrifying presence with her prominent muscles and dangerously sharp eyes - eyes that seemed to watch and follow him intently as he slid off his borrowed horse and toddled over, coming to a stop just out of her range. He dared not to reach out and pet her as Andre was.

“Don’t worry, she’s not going to bite or kick you unless I say,” Andre said absently, ducking under her head to scratch at her favourite spot - around the scar on her chest.

After an extended moment of happy nickers and whinnies Andre swooped back around to face Feit. “Wait here a moment while I go grab her saddle and bridle,” he turned his attention to the horse, “look after him.”

Feit watched as Andre jogged off in the direction of the stables and shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot, avoiding eye-contact with the destrier. Pumpkin had seemed somehow less intimidating on their way from Skyhold. In hindsight, he supposed he hadn’t really been paying that much attention to her. She let out a loud huff of air and Feit nearly jumped out of his skin as she took a few steps closer to him and began sniffing the top of his head.

“H-hey!” Feit moved his hand to swat her away, only to have her dodge it with ease. Feit swore he saw a mischievous glint in her eye as she swooped back in, this time licking the soft strands of his hair, knocking more than a few free from the tie.

“Pumpkin!” Andre’s voice bellowed out and the horse immediately stopped what she was doing and stepped back to her neutral, standing position.

Feit chucked at the somewhat guilty expression on her face as he went about tying his hair back again. He watched intently while Andre prepared her for travel with both efficiency and care and how she, in turn, cooperatively went along with his movements. The two of them flowed together easily, the no doubt thousands of times doing this making the act so routine. Within less than a few minutes, they were ready to head out.

Andre led Pumpkin over to Feit and whistled a different tune than before. She bent one foreleg at the knee and curled it, lowering her forequarters with the other leg outstretched, bowing her head forward as to allow Feit to mount up with ease. Andre smiled to himself. There was hardly anything more satisfying than showing off just how well he’d trained her.

Once Feit was firmly on the saddle, Pumpkin rose back to her full height, and Andre hauled himself up with Feit sat behind him.

“Make sure you hold onto me tight; when I said she could get us there in a third of the time I wasn’t exaggerating,” he said over his shoulder and waited.

Feit hesitated for a moment, suddenly hyper-aware of where they were touching and wondering where exactly he should place his hands. He gulped slightly and just did it, his arm coming around Andre’s midsection - not too high and not too low. Andre flicked the reigns and Pumpkin galloped off full pelt, Feit finding himself having to hold Andre even tighter and bring himself snug up against his back to avoid flying off.

He blushed. Andre not having his breastplate meant Feit could feel the smooth, hard muscles that made up his abdominals. The feeling of holding him this close was wonderful, so wonderful Feit wanted to simultaneously cling on forever and let go and tumble off the horse at the same time. Mythal help him!

“-Feit?”

“Huh? What?” Feit called, the sound of Andre’s voice shaking him out of his thoughts

“Which way?” Andre said back, louder this time, head gesturing to the upcoming fork in the road.

“Left takes us out of the city,” Feit barked back.

It was going to be a _long_ trip.


	40. Sometimes Your Ideas Get Me Into Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tides  
> 2/8

They rounded into the opening of the valley and Pumpkin snorted loudly at the creeping mist swirling about her galloping hooves. Feit felt her tension as they drew closer to ground zero; he let his hands clench a little against Andre's chest and lent outward to see the view ahead.

A great crackling of light came with an almost thundering sound as the tear was disturbed by Julien's mark, which yanked the dregs of demon energies into itself, producing a lull in the fighting. Solas quickly took the opportunity to revive a fallen Bull as Julien adjusted his archery glove and Aphel ran over to where the most demons looked to be emerging, the point of Ophelia an inch off the ground to avoid lopping people's ears off.

"Fuck. Those had better not be what I think they are," Julien groaned hoarsely.

A number of large figures began breaking through, stretched tall and skeletal they clawed up through the ground as though they'd been lying dormant there all along.

"If we knock them down," Aphel began, motioning to Bull and Solas.

"They'll be immobile for a few seconds, hit them bloody hard as soon as you get the chance!" Julien directed the damagers, "stay on your feet, no matter what."

Pumpkin bore around the ring of energy and Feit threw himself from the horse, finding a vantage to take in the entire scene. His chest was thumping hard, his hands trembled as he clenched the hilts of Andre's daggers but the Inquisitor looked Amazing. His eyes were sharp as Julien motioned groups into position, tugging at the collars of a slightly ill-fitting tunic.

"What the _hell_ are those things?" Andre shouted over the ethereal howling and screeching, whipping at Pumpkin's reigns, urging her to cross the threshold and head into the fray.

"Terror demons!" Julien howled back, lunging forward in a roll to escape claws slashing through the air, "Solas - stun it with your lightning thing!"

Solas flashed him a confused look and made motions with his hands; sending the demon closest to Julien flying up into the air a little and crashing it back down to the ground with a hard thud. _Shit_. He cursed himself a little for his forgetfulness.

Julien scrambled backward and shot the prone demon with a few arrows to the head. He pulled back another arrow and readied himself for the final blow.

" **Move**."

Julien flung himself out of the way without a seconds thought - he'd gone hunting with Andre enough times to recognize that tone in his voice. Pumpkin barreled past him full pelt, hoof beats hard against the rocky terrain of the mountainside. She let out a terrifying roar and her hooves connected with the demon; it's once proud battle cries turning into gurgling screeches and cries for reprieve. Pumpkin was relentless; stamping and burying her hooves into what was quickly becoming a pile of gore, the dark blood splattering up her legs, not bothering her in the slightest. Julien averted his gaze just as what he assumed was the thing's belly split open.

"It's dead; move onto the next one!" he shouted out, raising the bow and aiming it at the one attacking Aphel from behind.

Her sword, plunged into a demon’s trunk was held in place by its dagger-like talons, refusing to tear free. The one behind her paused and turned its attention thankfully, allowing Aphel to focus, pulling with all her strength until suddenly reversing the motion, forcing the thing to stumble backwards faster than it could gain a foothold, tripping and becoming skewered as the sword ploughed into the ground where it writhed, screamed and twisted itself around the blade, it's newly formed flesh splitting and tearing with the erratic movement, spurting dark blood onto Aphel's arms and torso as she held it firm, her eyes and mouth closed tightly from the spray. Krem was close enough to tumble over to her, raising his maul and crashing it down upon its skull and chest which popped and burst like a crushed insect.

Andre whipped at the reins once more, prompting Pumpkin to leap from the viscera and run towards the demon Julien was attacking. His sword, long since free from its scabbard, flourished back and forth as he readied himself to strike.

Swinging it through three or so shades, he began to realize that these things would neither bleed out nor fall from their wounds, they needed to be destroyed completely before they would stop. Seeing Julien send arrow after arrow into the tree-looking creature's skull as he strafed to avoid the bursting shards from the earth and swiping claws from the things coming to surround him, made Andre kick sharply to stampede towards the group, flanking his little brother.

Without warning an odd rippling sensation swamped the air and before he knew it Pumpkin was no longer beneath him and he tumbled to the ground, somehow managing to roll himself sufficiently enough to avoid being knocked unconscious. Hastily he crawled to his knees and whipped his head about to see what had knocked him from the saddle.

The Terror demon moved its arm back to swing at him and he scampered to the side - getting within arm’s reach of his fallen shield. It screeched out just as his hand gripped the handle, thrashing at it, shattering one arm so completely the bone burst through it's skin and sent it flopping uselessly to its side. Andre ignored the spray hitting his cheek as he lunged forward with a shout, burying the bottom edge within the demon’s throat and pushing his weight upward until he was standing and the demon was tumbling back.

When he couldn’t move it or pull the shield free, Andre resorted to kicking the demon over and pinning it to the ground with his weight, kicking at its still working arm as it swiped and grabbed at his legs. Stomping and crushing its limbs to weaken it, he wrenched free the shield and slammed it down again with enough force that the air pushed from his lungs in a harsh grunt, raised it before even taking in another breath, and slammed it down again and again, hacking at its neck until the head came free with a sickening crunch and thud as the shield dug into the earth.

Feit's eyes were huge as he took in the ferociousness of the battle. Andre was a steamroller and his sister was just as unstoppable. Julien on the other hand was whipping his way through the group of shades as though he'd never broken a bow doing that before. Feit couldn't sprint to his side fast enough, parting the shadowy torsos with the quiet tearing as though they were made of air. Cole appeared nearby doing the same and just as quickly vanishing from sight.

Slicing and slashing though the endless supply of green spectres; Feit’s body shuddered with an indescribable feeling he did his best to ignore. Occasionally his eyes flicked to Andre, who had reclaimed his sword and was now wildly hacking at anything that came near, his shouts and yells were becoming brutal enough to make Feit’s blood chill, and he noticed Blackwall deflecting Andre's sword away from fellow fighters, clearly aware of what to do when a warrior loses control in the heat of battle.

An arrow whizzed past Feit's head, a hair’s breadth from the tip of his ear and he heard its target thud to the ground behind him. He hazarded a glance - one of the lesser terrors slumped into the dirt, and looked back to where the arrow had originated and received a wink, _a wink_ , from the Inquisitor.

“Stay sharp!” he yelled over the din and Feit felt his face heat a little. He was so _cool_.

Not having time to dawdle, he obeyed, circling past Aphel; reaping the demons like rows of wheat, dodging claw and a misaimed kick. He tried to make it back to Andre; who had now taken down a few of the strongest demons in such dramatic fashion that the others were realising his presence was a much greater threat, and were targeting him.

One was lowering its stance, eyeing Andre as its prey as it began sinking into the ground. Feit knew where it was headed and pushed hard to make it before the thing could skewer-

An arm against his stomach stopped him immediately and he watched as the demon erupted from the ground, only to be dissevered by the downward swing of Andre's sword.

"You don't want to get near that." Julien cleared his throat. "He can handle himself."

"But there are so many around him - he'll be overwhelmed!" Feit said, filled with both concern and an eagerness to help, but his body did not move despite the protest.

Andre swung his sword as he swooped low to the ground, hamstringing a demon and letting his shield drop out of his hand from the awkward position he'd gotten himself into. With barely a heartbeat's passing, he punched at its head with his heavy gauntlets as it fell forward, crashing down upon him with its face caved in and ruined from the impact. Feit couldn't help but gape. Was this the same man who less than an hour ago was showing off horse tricks?

"And if you go over there, you'll be delivered to your sister in several different pieces," Julien hissed, yanking Feit away a little further, "let me handle it - I can help him from a safe distance. You go to Varric; he looks as if he could use the assist."

Feit allowed himself one last glance only to see Andre push the demon's corpse off himself and pick up that shield, the one Gwyn had given him, bashing it heavily against the next demon with a sickening crunch that was becoming a little too familiar for Feit's liking.

Julien returned to fighting his way towards to rift, noticing Aphel doing the same as the demons' numbers dwindled. Green spikes shot up from the ground beneath him and it was all he could do to leap backwards, stumbling slightly as he did so. Andre’s shouting and yelling was becoming more and more frightening and Julien knew if they didn’t do something soon, he’d truly dive off the deep end and a few shades would be the least of their worries.

"Disrupt it! Buy us some time!" He shouted, hoping Aphel could hear him past the wall of green spikes.

“Are you sure?" Aphel’s voice came from the other side.

He couldn’t see her but he knew she’d be thinking of the same thing he was: Once they did this, showed everyone what she could do too... well there would be a lot of questions to answer.

“Do it! I need to stop Andre before he-”

As if on cue Andre made a grunting noise and a demon hurtled through the air, smashing into the spike wall and shattering it in a rain of dust and debris. Aphel, dazed for only a second, met his gaze and nodded grimly. Julien hoped she would understand, that she wouldn’t mind doing this for him. He dashed off in Andre’s direction until yet more green shot up through the earth, blocking his way entirely.

“Shit!”

He looked about for raised land or _something_ he could use as a step to jump over it but his eyes found only Cullen, fighting off the last of the shades on this side. Should he? He smiled to himself. Cullen looked sturdy enough and there wasn’t much time. Julien fired a few arrows off in his direction, taking out the bulk while Cullen’s sword sliced through the last.

“Cullen! I need a boost!” he shouted out, running toward him and pointing to the wall.

The commander looked between him and the wall and nodded, repositioning himself by crouching down. Julien smiled wildly at him, excited to finally be using this technique on the battlefield. He’d practiced this a few times before, not just with Cullen, but Cassandra and Blackwall too; thinking it would not only be useful but quite impressive as well. Cullen braced himself against the ground as Julien’s foot met his back and he leapt, flipping forward through the air and landing safely on the other side.

“Did you make it?” Cullen shouted out.

Julien shouted a _yeah_ and reached for his quiver, cursing loudly to himself as he realized his little trick had emptied it all over the ground. He scrambled about, looking desperately for where they had fallen but found only one shattered behind the green shard. Shit! He glanced at Andre then back at the useless arrow. He hadn’t really thought this through, had he?

He cringed internally for the stupid thing he was about to do and sprinted forward with his bow in hand, eyes keeping track of Andre’s fight pattern.

“Hey!” Julien shouted, trying desperately to lure some demons toward him, “ _Hey!_ ”

A terror turned its gaze and lumbered toward him with the otherworldly gait and Julien apologised to his bow internally, readying himself to swat it like a bat and to aim for its spindly legs. Too fast those large talons swept through the air and he dropped to the ground and rolled, the claw ripping the Royale Sea Silk robe from his back. He cringed. Dorian was _not_ going to be happy about that.

Before he could jump back up, a bolt of intense, sharp pain struck his marked hand and he couldn’t help but wince while the following wave of energy burst outward, shattering the green wall and stunning the remaining demons. Doing his best to quickly recover and ignore the throbbing, Julien took the opportunity to grab his hunting knife from his boot and leap upward onto the demon’s back, stabbing and sweeping the knife through the thing’s throat until it dropped to the ground with a gurgle. The rest of the group rushed over to help with the last few, until all but Blackwall stepped back from Andre's reach.

Blackwall flung his sword downward, sundering a shade in two while Andre battered and ran the last one through before turning to smack him with the shield. It was skillfully brushed to the side and the bear reached forward to grab Andre's sword arm. The Iron Bull had come up behind but still kept a space.

“Battle is over,” Blackwall grunted, struggling to keep Andre from slipping out of his grip, “drop the shield before you hurt someone.”

“ _Fuck you!_ ” Andre seethed, resorting to kicking at Blackwall’s legs, breathing heavy and ragged as he writhed.

 Bull grinned wickedly. “Go ahead, I’d pay to see that.”

Andre snarled almost ferally, expression twisting up into an utterly repulsed scowl as his increased thrashing to break free wasn't achieving anything. Bull took the opportunity to quickly grab at the shield arm, only to be swung at and kicked hard enough in the gut to fold the Qunari in half.

"Enough!" Blackwall ordered, reaching around to tighten Andre into a headlock, "I won't say it again soldier."

“Boss, close the rift!” Bull called, and Julien was already sprinting over to get in range, feeling the bile rise up in his throat with each step he took. He hated this part the most.

With his right hand he peeled the glove from the left and swung it aloft; feeling the mark pulse with power as it thumped at the same frequency as the tear. He gritted his teeth and scowled at the unusually intense sting that shot up his arm while the two powers met, his arm shaking more and more until there was a low bursting sound accompanied by the most excruciating pain Julien had ever felt in his entire life. A bloodcurdling scream erupted from his mouth as he cradled his hand against his chest, legs wobbling slightly as stumbled forward a few steps before his knees buckled and met the ground.

The world felt different. Everything pulsed and pushed against him, the feeling of it oppressive and suffocating. Each breath felt as though it could be his last as each became progressively harder and harder to do. His heart hammered in his chest, throat tightened and threatened to close up entirely. Panic set in. Where was he? What was going on? He cracked his eyes open, not even remembering when he’d closed them. The world was rippling, flashing between night and day, lush and green, on fire and arid. His body felt there and _not there_ at the same time, as if he were flickering in and out of existence. Why was this happening? What had he done differently? What mess had he gotten himself into this time? He pushed back the urge to throw up and cry.

He rocked back and forth slightly from his crouched position, pressing his shaking hands against the grass or dirt and pushing up from the earth, letting himself feel it and trust it was really there, grounding himself. He closed his eyes once more and began chanting to himself. _Please just pass, please just pass. This isn’t real, this isn’t real. The grass is real. I am real. I’m in Kirkwall. I am fine. I am fine. I am…_

People had begun to back out of the now smouldering clearing, flicking eyes around themselves in case a spirit or two had been hiding out of sight. Only when the last waves of paranoia dissipated and the adrenaline drained that people began hobbling in each other's arms to the three or four with medical training and the cognisance to use it.

Julien's people where whispering and glancing either where Julien knelt, or Aphel slumped, shaking her trembling left hand, or to Andre who had finally been calmed down, a red mark on his cheek threatening to bruise up as he quietly searched his pockets for a handkerchief to wipe the demon blood from his eyes, face, arms, chest, feet, legs…

"Maker above. I thought we'd be getting away from the rifts," one Templar swore.

"You were worried about _that_? That bloke nearly took my head off," another grumbled, holding some wadding to a gash at the back of his head.

"You twat." The first rolled his eyes. "I'm saying, obviously this thing's spreading, you know?"

"Is the mark spreading too? That sword elf had one. I don't want to get it on me."

"I wouldn't mind having one, might come in handy," he clenched his fist.

"Did you hear his scream as he closed it? You bloody well count yourself lucky if it hurts that bad."

Aphel tried not to laugh at their chatter, she was already out of breath. Feit trundled and plopped next to her, leaning against her shoulder as he re-tied his remaining foot wrap, closing his eyes and pressing his nose into her when she didn't respond.

"Th'ea?" _you alright?_ she finally asked.

He nodded and cleaned the grime from his face with her sleeve.

"Masa.." _ass.._ Aphel shook her head, raised her hand to his, and shoved him backwards to the dirt. "You fought well with those daggers. Better than the bow."

"I think I'm pretty good at both," he said, then changed the subject, "is it like that for you? When you… close the rifts? Sounded like it hurt Julien a lot."

"Not usually… no. I have more control I suppose; I should talk to him about it later on. But that's not for you to worry about, just Inquisitor business."

Feit gave her a blank look. "Oh, I see then. Well, I believe us ' _siblings of inquisitors_ ' ought to make our own club too. And we're going to have Ice-cream." He got up to leave.

"Still, not as good with the bow." Aphel smirked.

"Both are good," he turned to comment, making sure she knew he heard her, then ran out of earshot.

As soon as it had come it left and Julien found his consciousness return to his body, reality shifting back to its proper state. Still kneeling, Julien focused on his breathing; willing himself to stop trembling, stop thinking about the thing on his hand, don’t think about what he’d just experienced and to stop showing how much it affected him. There were expectations. It wouldn’t do for him to throw up or lose it in front of all these people - _his_ people. He hoped, _hoped_ , no one had noticed his… whatever that had been.

A raven cawed loudly from the ground next to him, cutting through the remaining fog in his mind. He stared at it dumbly for a moment, meeting it’s somehow _knowing_ stare as it tilted its head, considering him and remaining for what seemed like a few moments too long before it pecked mercilessly at his right hand.

“H-hey! Ow!” he hissed, swatting at it to shoo it away.

It gave a hitching caw Julien swore was a laugh and flew off into the trees and out of sight. He shook his head and inspected his hand. It had pecked clean through the leather of this glove and a tiny amount of red pooled in the hole. With a defeated sigh, he fished the other glove off the ground and slipped it back on, avoiding eye contact with his palm.

Slowly, he wandered back over to the main group, stepping around people to get Andre who was still in the process of wiping gore off himself. Julien swallowed his anxiety, choosing to focus on making sure Andre was ok instead of dwelling on his own harrowing experience. The brothers made eye contact and an understanding seemed to pass between the two of them, Andre giving Julien a tired look and Julien placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“You good?” Julien was the first to speak.

“I’m fine” Andre said quietly, nodding his head to the side indicating Julien to follow.

The two of them wandered away from the majority of the group, both too troubled with themselves to notice the glares Andre was on the receiving end of and the sympathetic, worried looks directed at Julien. Andre decided to stand while Julien shakily sat down on a rock, rubbing at his palm subconsciously.

He wanted to tell him he shouldn’t have come; that there were too many people and not enough space for them to keep a safe distance from him, and that if he was going to fight with them again he needed to control himself better. But Julien was far too tired to even bother with the argument that was sure to come from it.

“You aren’t well,” Andre said simply, concern on his face, “the Rifts... they really take it out of you don’t they?”

Julien looked at his brother then to his people then back again. “They do.”

“You should let Aphel take care of them then, since she seems to have the mark too...”

Then a sudden realisation and Andre crossed his hands over his chest with a solemn look of concentration on his face and Julien _knew_ this was about to go somewhere unpleasant.

“Andraste chose her too?" He lowered his head as if to pray. "I'm glad you're not alone then.”

Aphel looked at Julien over Andre's shoulders and raised a brow, to which Julien shook his head.

"It's a little more complicated than that." Julien tried to reason. "not to mention the whole… she's not Andrastian thing, I mean have you met her? She even swears."

If Andre had heard, it didn't show as the older man, without warning, pulled Julien into a silent hug, one that was surprisingly nice due to Andre's lack of chest-plate or nagging. Julien stood stiffly, absolutely stunned. He couldn’t recall a single time they’d actually sincerely hugged before. It was bizarre, odd but... not entirely awful. So he returned it, wrapping his arms awkwardly around his brother’s torso and squeezing until Andre began squeezing back and Julien lost the ability to breathe.

With a little chuckle, _a chuckle_ , Andre released him and scuffled up Julien’s hair almost playfully. Julien just stared dumbly at him, mind unable to process the sudden _kindness_ coming from this brother. Andre nodded in farewell and strode over to Pumpkin while Aphel and Julien sat slightly dumbfounded.

"That was nice... _Progress_?" Aphel quizzed.

Julien couldn't be sure, but it was almost as if some kind of weight was lifted from Andre's shoulders with the way he was walking, almost chipper in his swagger.

"Maybe," Julien said hesitantly, “Let’s see how long it lasts...”

Shifting closer, Aphel and Julien sat side by side.

"That seemed quite terrible for you." She asked, referring to the reaction he had with the rift. "Was that normal? You were...  _screaming_."

He didn't want to think about it, _really_ didn't want to talk about it, but yes, it was different, and it _utterly terrified_ him. "No, it was way beyond what I'm used to. It's never been that bad before, not even the Breach, and that was bad."

Aphel looked down at her own palm contemplatively. Hers ached and throbbed, definitely more troublesome than usual. Maybe it was Julien’s world that caused such discomfort? It certainly didn’t feel like this back home.

“We should start heading back,” Julien said, suddenly rising to his feet, flashing her a smile that didn’t quite seem genuine, “everyone is looking rather peaked, don’t you think?”

She could tell he was putting on a brave face; that he was desperately avoiding diving too deeply into the conversation; that he needed time to think. There’d been more than one occasion when she’d felt the same, hell, she was going through a bout of it right now. So she didn’t pry, not when she knew he’d talk to her when he was ready, and simply nodded, following him back across the clearing to where the horses were tied and the others were waiting.


	41. Wind Me Up and Watch Me Spin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tides  
> 3/8

The trip back to Kirkwall took far longer than the ride out but Andre chalked that up to having to slow down for everyone else. He rode on his own off to the side, as Feit had chosen to ride with Aphel and the mistrustful eyes of the Inquisition soldiers had made him feel more than unwelcome. He couldn't blame any of them.

 It was _him_ that had lost control, _him_ that sliced more than a few of them unintentionally, _him_ that had to be punched and slapped a few times by that  _con-artist_ before he'd come to his senses. The reddened cheek he was now sporting was an embarrassment as well as a pain; a reminder of how easy it was to slip into that mindset and how hard it was to slip out. The hateful glares he was on the receiving end of were well and truly earned, he'd been completely feral; out of control. 

 He hated himself for how _good_ it had felt.

 It had been like drinking water when utterly parched; both rejuvenating and blissful. Oh how exhilarating it had felt for his gauntlets to rip into flesh, his boots to crush bone, his sword to cut through the air with that satisfying whooshing sound. _Maker_ he’d felt like _cheering_ when he’d hurled that one demon clear across the field.

 It had been far too long since he’d done anything _really_ useful; at least in the physical sense. His frustration and anger had had no release, no outlet. At least back in Ostwick his job kept both his mind and hands busy. There were fewer pleasures in life then keeping both the streets and the people safe… as well as throwing lowlifes through windows.

 He frowned a little at the thought and it was then realised just how homesick he actually was. He missed getting up at the crack of dawn to feed and groom Pumpkin, missed heading downtown to the barracks and eating breakfast with the morning guard before they began their shift, missed smelling the fresh bread wafting out of Gerard’s Bakery while he was on patrol, missed… well everything. So many little things he could spend hours wistfully recalling it all.

The thing that stung the most, he realised as he glanced over to both Julien and Bull chatting away, was the void around him where his friends usually were. The complete lack of companionship. Despite _all_ his siblings being within arms-reach, despite even the unexpected bond he’d forged with Feit, he still felt _lonely._ He missed his little cadre greatly; Esther, Elowyn, Tremayne, Marlow… _Marlow._ The image of him lying broken, bloody and motionless on the floor flooded back to his mind. _Shit_. When he returned, everything would be completely different. Their little group would have a hole so large, he doubted it would ever be filled again.

He'd not even had time to mourn, not really. There'd been those precious few hours of rest he'd allowed himself when he'd been on his way to Skyhold; in the wee hours of the morning where the weight of reality had set in and Pumpkin had nuzzled her head into him softly as the sobbing shook his body. But that hadn't been enough. Did his family even know yet? What happened to the body? It had all happened so quickly... 

"What're you thinking about, Butterball?" Julien chirped as he rode up beside him with Bull in tow, the nickname lacking its usual punch, "you have a fairly dire look on your face."

Andre swallowed the lump in his throat. Julien didn't need to know the details of Marlow's death, he'd had enough to deal with for one night.

"I'm meeting a courier tomorrow," he said, tone a little more abrupt than he had intended, "They’ll have intel on Tevinter movements outside Ostwick.”

 Julien frowned at him, giving him a look that said he knew that hadn’t been what Andre had been thinking about, but let it slide.

 “Yeah? How? Who is sending you this? Why wasn’t I told?” Julien spluttered.

 “Well, if you’d _bothered_ to show up to the first meeting,” Andre gave him an unimpressed look but his tone did not hold its usual terseness, “You would know that I saw Esther before I left Ostwick. She said she would keep a watch and send a report over for me."

Julien screwed up his nose in a cringe, the sight of which caused Bull to laugh heartily.

"I take it you aren't much of a fan of them, Boss?"

"Imagine Andre, but with tits and a sharper wit," Julien replied, ducking out of the way of Andre's fist flying through the air.

"Don't talk about her-" he paused for a moment, a flush blooming across his face, " _breasts,_ Julien!"

Julien flashed him a wicked grin and he realised his reaction had been a mistake.

"Why are you blushing Andre? You thinking about them now?" 

Andre felt his face heat further and he looked pleadingly to Bull, desperate for an out of this awkward conversation.

"Who is she, exactly?" Bull said with a small nod in Andre's direction, giving him a look that said  _you owe me for this one._

"She's my fri-"

"She's the mother of his illegitimate child," Julien smarmed over the top of Andre's voice.

It was all Andre could do  _not_  to kick Julien and his insufferable, loud mouth from the Dracolisk.

Aphel and Feit rode ahead of them, towards a group of approaching guards. If Feit's bewildered expression and Aphel's highly amused one was anything to go by, they'd overheard Julien's little outburst. 

Why? What had Andre ever done to deserve such a horrible, annoying brother?

"She'll be surprised to hear that," Andre snipped, his frustration reaching its peak, "I'm meeting the courier in the morning, Julien. I suggest you get a good sleep and sober up enough to actually attend the meeting in the afternoon."

“Wait, No!” Julien cried out desperately, “Don’t tell her I said that! It was a joke!”

Andre smiled in satisfaction as he flicked the reins and clicked his tongue; riding off full pelt past Aphel and Feit, down the stairs, past the tavern slightly and to the stables. Perhaps that comment had been a little bit of a low blow but Andre was certainly not in the mood for shenanigans. Both Pumpkin and himself needed a bath and a long sleep after the fight, and Pumpkin did not have the luxury of actual hands or a large body of water to do it herself, so he got straight to it.

Skipping off Aphel's horse, Feit couldn't help but pause at the sight, before jogging to some of the nearby guards where he spotted a familiar freckled face and clamoured to tell the tale of the fight. Aveline reassured him that the people were safe in their homes and Feit waved her goodnight, stepping past Julien, smiling to Andre bashfully as he moved into the tavern.

“Excuse me, Inquisitor?”

Julien stopped mid-stride and sighed deeply. The door to the Hanged Man was literally four steps away. He’d been so close. _So close._ As he turned to face the owner of the voice, he willed the tiredness to leave his features.

“Ye-” he stopped mid-sentence.

Solas was stood before him. Not the Solas that had just entered the tavern, arms linked with Aphel. No, this Solas had a heavy cloak wrapped around him and a hood pulled over his head. Julien blinked and gaped dumbly at him, mind unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Last time he’d seen this Solas was in the catacombs beneath Skyhold the day he and Aphel had returned to this world. What was he doing _here_ of all places?

“How did you-”

“I think it’s best if we go somewhere a little more quiet, my friend. I will tell you everything when prying eyes and ears aren’t about,” Solas said quietly, beckoning Julien to follow with a slight nod of his head.

They didn’t walk far. Solas led Julien just out of Lowtown to an inconspicuous building, the distant sound of the sea indicating they weren’t far off from the Docks. The interior was... very Kirkwall. Earthen floors, plain stone walls with questionable wooden beams, iron lanterns and no windows. Solas had managed to scrounge up a fairly nice table and chairs though.

“Whose house is this?” Julien asked absently, glancing about at the rest of the unimaginative decor.

“Not sure,” Solas replied, poking the dying embers of the fire in an attempt to revive it, “I’m only renting it out for the evening.”

Just the evening? How long had he been here? How did he even _get_ here? Julien shook his head. Solas would tell him soon enough, he just need to be patient. He trotted over to one of the chairs and flopped down, sighing happily at the relief being off his feet gave. Now all he needed was-

“Here,” Solas passed him a hot cup of tea, a whisper of disgust on his face as he caught a whiff of it, “I heard from the guard there was a Rift and I thought you could use a pick-me-up. Sorry I couldn’t conjure you some cheesecake.”

Julien couldn’t help but smile along with Solas. He brought the teacup to his lips and blew on it to cool it down some.

“You don’t look very well.” Solas sat down in the opposite chair, a look of concern on his face as he unclasped and flicked the cloak off onto the back of the chair, “how bad was it this time?”

Julien sighed and sipped at his tea.

“Worse than the Breach. Intense pain, violently shaking arm… really bad disassociation. I-I couldn’t tell if I was here or in the Fade - if I was real or not. It was… It only lasted a few moments but... it was terrifying.”  He glanced down at the hand in question, “At least I didn’t pass out this time, I suppose.”

Solas nodded his head slowly and held out his hand. Julien was terrified of the mark, so utterly and completely. He hated anyone seeing it or touching it, afraid they’d get sucked into the Fade and be lost forever or _worse_ they’d somehow get one too. But Solas...

Solas he trusted.

In those first few days, Solas had been the one who’d helped him come to terms with it. He’d been there, studying it and gleaning its secrets while he’d been unconscious. He’d been the one who taught him how to use it. If anyone was safe, or at least aware of its power enough to defend themselves against it, it was Solas.

Julien slipped the glove from his hand and laid it atop Solas’. A sympathetic look came across the man’s face as he studied it for a moment before placing his other hand atop it, magic surging softly against it as it soothed the ache with its warmth. Julien let out another sigh of relief.

“I don’t know what you did but it worked - thank you,” Julien commented appreciatively.

“It’s just an old Elvhen healing spell,” Solas said casually, like it _wasn’t_ some amazing feat he’d just performed, “I think your reality-hopping has aggravated it. Or perhaps the presence of your... friend interferes with it on some level. It’s impossible to say without doing further research.”

“Sounds about right,” Julien said dismissively, “That’d be my luck, wouldn’t it?”

“Quite - danger does seem to follow wherever you step,” Solas said with a chuckle before dipping his hand into the satchel hung about his waist, pulling out a battered looking journal and placing it in the centre of the table, “I came here to give you this - both myself and Dagna’s research on what happened in Skyhold. I thought it imperative you go forward from here with as much information as possible.”

Julien quickly gulped down the rest of his tea and sat up straight, setting the cup down to pick up the book. A sealed envelope dropped out from between the pages as he opened it; a solid lump forming in his throat as he realised it was his Father’s handwriting that spelled out his name.

Solas hid any tension well, looking as relaxed as one possibly could be in the awkwardly fashioned furniture, his long lanky legs crossed at the ankle and a hand cautiously on his chin.

 "You don't need to be alarmed, it isn't a final word. If anything- no, you should just read it." He cut himself off, "It has been very unsettling not having you drop in on me every few hours, nothing distracts me at all and the days have been passing too quickly."

"Really?" Julien managed to chuckle, "finally getting something done then? You slacker."

 Julien barely heard Solas’ laugh over the roaring of blood in his head. His heart pounded heavily in his chest as his gaze bore into the paper in his hands, anxiety freezing him in place. What could he possibly have to say to him if it weren’t a final word?

Flipping the envelope over, Julien noted the wax had been sealed with the Inquisition’s insignia and remembered Andre had the Trevelyan signet ring. He scoffed a little. His Father more than likely kicked up a fuss about not having the correct stamp.

“Surprised he even bothered with it,” Julien muttered to himself as he ran his fingers beneath the paper and broke the seal.

“He is a difficult man to negotiate with but Cassandra handled him well enough.” Solas said with a small smile that spoke volumes of the spectacle _that_ must have been.

 

_Julien,_

 

_Let me start by saying I do not expect you to forgive me or my actions during my short time here in Skyhold. The last time we spoke, I fully expected it to be our last, but now new evidence has arisen and I find myself facing an uncertain future. I am not infected by the Red Lyrium and as such I shall not be dying from it._

 

Julien looked up from the paper, utterly shocked and confused. How could this be? Had his Father become completely deranged? Delirious?

“What does he mean ‘not infected by Red Lyrium’? I _saw_ him all,” he made gestures with his hands, “It was growing out of his _face_!”

“Yes fascinating thing, that,” Solas said carefully, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table, “It is an illusory magic. Something I haven't come across in many years, so far into the fade I expected it couldn't possibly come to light in the material world. I see know it was foolish to believe it had been lost to the ages."

“Illusions?” Julien blinked a few times, letting that sink in, “That sounds ridiculous... if this weren’t coming from you, I don’t think I’d believe it.”

“Which is exactly the reason I decided to deliver this in person,” Solas said, tapping the journal, “it explains it all in here. A day or so after you all left, the blade shattered when we were examining it and the spell was broken - all of the Red Lyrium corruption was gone from your Father and the bodies of the soldiers returned to normal.”

Julien felt bile rising in his throat. They had murdered innocent men and women. Spell or no, those people had families - they didn’t deserve to die pointlessly just because _his Father_ had wanted Gwyn back. He let out a sigh and brought a hand to his face, leaning heavily against the table.

That wasn’t fair. If their positions had been reversed... who knows. Maybe Julien would have done the same thing. Back in the great hall when Gwyn had first appeared, he’d been willing to kill Feit if he’d fired at her - hadn’t hesitated to draw his bow at all.

“If it makes you feel any better those soldiers did turn into those beasts, albeit temporarily. That magic is so convincing to the victim it _becomes_ reality. They were just as dangerous as the real thing, you had no choice.”

The nature of the magic was so baffling, Julien had a hard time wrapping his head around it. Did that make it better? Regardless of whether or not it did, his Father had still been willing to sacrifice them all and that could not go unpunished, no matter how good his intentions had been.

He suddenly felt like tearing the letter into a thousand tiny pieces and throwing it into the fire. He didn’t want to hear excuses or be convinced otherwise. He felt righteous in his fury, in his outrage, and he feared that if he read any more those flames would be quelled.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

So he folded the letter carefully and then gently slid it back into the envelope before shoving it roughly into his pocket. He would worry about the rest of it later - once he’d had a good night’s sleep and a stiff drink.

He sat back in the chair, his gaze distant. "I can hardly believe any of this," he reiterated, his exhaustion hitting him again in a strong wave.

"But you can, I do believe there is more to this than was first assumed and I must warn you that returning to your family home may certainly be stepping right into a trap. You must remember where your priorities lie," Solas stated with concern.

"Where my priorities lie?" Julien snapped to attention, "Egg, if you think I just going to waltz back home and let them deal with this by themselves you have seriously-"

"No, I could never imagine you doing that. I just had to say what needed to be said." he stood and reached a hand out, grabbing Julien's to say goodbye. "For the good of the Inquisition and the fate of this world, you must return Julien. Be careful."

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about me: careful is my speciality,” Julien flashed him a tired smile, “by the way how did you-“

“Get here?” Solas finished his sentence for him in that frustratingly _knowing_ way, “We managed to get one of the Eluvians working; I’ll be heading back shortly after you leave.”

Julien was hardly surprised. Both Solas and Ser Michel had been working fairly hard on figuring those things out; that they’d finally made some progress was a pleasant, if expected, development. Solas walked him over to the door and, before he headed out, Julien turned and pulled the shorter man into a tight hug.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, feeling a little awkward as he pulled away and noted Solas’ stunned expression, “I really do appreciate all of this. I know I can be a bit of a handful sometimes-“

“Think nothing of it,” Solas replied simply, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “There’s no one else I’d rather be running around after. Now go, before anyone notices you’re missing.”

 

* * *

 

Julien couldn’t get back to the Hanged Man fast enough, practically jogging the entire way back despite his entire body shrieking at him in protest. It had been a _long_ day and he wanted nothing more than for it to just end.

The letter was practically burning a hole in his pocket, the weight of it being far heavier than any scabbard or quiver could ever be. He kept his gaze straight ahead and pushed the thought of it from his mind. _Save it for another time, Julien._ His bed was calling to him and how he longed to be between those soft sheets and those warm legs.

He barely registered going through the front door of the tavern, the motions being almost automatic. Soldiers from the fight earlier called out to him, asking if he wanted to join them but he continued on without a word, too tired to be polite. He took the stairs two steps at a time, expending a little more energy to just _get there already._

Careful to be quiet, Julien slipped back into his room and smiled to himself at the sight of Dorian sat on the lounge by the fire, half naked and reading.

“Hey,” he said dopily as he closed the door quietly behind him.

By the time he’d kicked off his boots and they'd padded over to the bed, he found he didn’t have the energy to even undress himself. He flopped gently onto his side, not bothering with the covers, and closed his eyes ready for sleep.

“Julien? Where have you _been?_ The others came back half an hour ago!” Dorian’s voice suddenly above him.

"Sorry, Solas needed to talk." He tugged the book out from jutting into his ribs and wiggled it in the air. "'s for you.."

"For me? Oh how thoughtful, but I'd much rather have known where you were and that you weren't being murdered and robbed." Dorian's cracking voice made Julien turn to look up at him.

"I came back as quickly as I could. Let's go to sleep Dor."

Dorian pouted but allowed Julien's nuzzles to slowly pull him down to the pillow, "but now I'm not tired."

Julien was practically snoring already as Dorian began undressing them both.

"Julien," he said rather seriously, "what are those?"

The marks he gently touched, yellow and green bruises spanning the space across Julien's ribs and back, were healing but still made him twitch at the pressure. "'s from Andre, kicked me off the hammock."

"You've got to be joking. You mean back on the ship?”

 Julien nodded ever so slightly, groaning a little affirmative noise as he tried to nestle himself deeper into the soft bed.

 “You were recovering from a pierced lung for Andraste's sake! Doesn't that bull-headed oaf think at all before he acts?"

 Julien flicked his eyes open, blushing when he realised how angry Dorian was getting over it. "I was kicking him too. I pretty much started it..."

 "That's not important. You're still recovering,” he curled close to Julien and left soft kisses over his injuries, past and present. "How is it I’m only learning about this now? I swear they weren’t on you when you were tied to the mast…” He leaned back and examined them once more, noting ever so slight rope burns above and below where the majority of the bruising was. He let out a tiny hiss. “Your siblings are-”

Julien leaned up and silenced him with a small, soft kiss; his hand coming up to brush through Dorian’s hair gently, pulling him closer and closer with each passing heartbeat until they were flush against one another, safe in each other’s arms.

 “Mostly horrible, yes, but they’ll leave me alone after tonight, I think. Or at least Andre should.”

 Dorian frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s seen me in action now, seen how hard being the Inquisitor is. I’m sure he’ll cut me at least a _little_ slack.” _Hopefully_.

Dorian was quiet for a few moments, just taking the time to gently stroke Julien’s sides, fingers still running over the bruises with a feather-light touch.

 “Aphel told me you screamed when you closed the Rift…” he said quietly, stilling his movements and kissing the top of Julien’s head, “I never should have let you go without me. I need you to be safe."

“Dorian, I-” Julien frowned slightly.

Truth be told even after Solas’ little spell, he still felt horrid. Absolutely _wretched_. The thing on his hand made him feel so… so _disgusting_. So utterly fetid that all he wanted to do was go bury himself in the ground somewhere and puke until he died. Not to mention how bad it was beginning to ache again.

Be he couldn’t tell Dorian that. No, not when he was already worrying himself sick about every little thing that happened to him, opening up and telling him about how the rift had _truly_ made him feel would only succeed in making them _both_ feel horrible. Julien would shoulder all the hurt and turmoil if it meant Dorian would be ok.

"Thank you, Dor. I’ll be more careful" Julien slurred unintentionally, a little dizzy from the sleep deprivation.

"You can thank me better if you give me a hand."

The innuendo was almost lost on him until he felt Dorian's hardening shaft beneath his fingers, his hand held firmly in place where the skin was burning with need.

Julien allowed himself to chuckle and nod quietly as he relaxed into Dorian’s warmth, letting his right hand to stroke lazily while he looked up through fluttered lashes at the beautiful man lounged against him. All the misery, all the pain and tears, all the horrific, traumatizing things he’d witnessed were worth it just for this view; the view of Dorian’s flushed cheeks, mussed hair and barely containable smile. He sighed, wishing it could last forever.

“Amatus,” Julien _loved_ the way he emphasized the sound of the ‘s’. “I adore you.”

“And I, you,” Julien hummed, nuzzling his nose gently against a warm cheek.

He savoured that feeling, closing his eyes to remember the sensation until a fresh wave of pain and nausea rose up through him and he resisted the urge to heave. _No, no, no, no! Not now!_

"What is it?" Dorian placed his hand under Jules's jaw, raising it a little to inspect the clenching muscles there. "What's wrong?"

“N-nothing,” he replied, cringing internally at how obvious the stutter was, “just had a chill run up my spine. It’s nothing, really. Let’s just-” Another burst of pain from his palm. “Let’s just get back to snuggling.”

Dorian dragged Julien up to sit, still held against his chest.

"I'm not some blithering idiot you can fool with that misplaced chivalry, nor will I crumble under the pressure you think you might be heaping on me by telling the truth. I've survived my own family for Andraste's sake, I'm rather proud of that by the way, so don't you go hiding things from me, thinking that, one; you're a good liar; or two; that you're somehow saving me from worrying about you. I'll damn well worry even if you won't tell me why."

Julien felt his lip quiver and his eyes mist up.

 “I don’t think you’re a blithering idiot, Dorian. I just didn’t want to-” he was cut off by his own yelping.

 The mark audibly crackled from under the glove and a fresh surge of nausea smacked into him like a brick to the face, causing him to groan and double over, clutching his hand to his chest in a feeble attempt to shield Dorian if it decided to open a rift on its own volition.

  “I don’t… I don’t feel very well.” An understatement.

“Don’t feel well how?” Dorian’s voice took on that anxious crackle and Julien felt his heart ache at the sound of it. “Sharp or dull pain? Nausea? Dizziness?”

“All of the above?” Julien offered uselessly, flinching away when Dorian tried to grab his hand, “Don’t! I don’t want you to! If you got trapped…"

“Please let me see,” Dorian pleaded, slumping slightly when he backed away even further, head shaking.

“I-I’ll be fine. It’ll pass! Like it did befor-” Julien brought his right hand up to his mouth. “I-I think I’m going to throw up.”

Faster than Dorian could blink Julien hurtled himself off the bed and went for the bucket by the bathtub in the corner of the room, emptying the contents of stomach while Dorian scrambled quickly to his feet, his hands gently stroking circles along the muscles of his lower back and hips.

“Don’t…” Julien managed to squeak out between gasps, fluttering a hand meekly as though he were trying to wave him off, “I’ll get it on you.”

Dorian clicked his tongue at the irony and continued the slow sweeps, up and around. "Julien, you've had your dick in my ass."

Julien almost choked. He’d said it so casually; he almost didn’t pick up on it.

“D-Dorian!” he spluttered, a little scandalized, “w-what’s that got to do with anything?”

"I'm just saying, a little vomit is nothing," Dorian replied, laughing more than a little.

Julien flushed and not entirely from the lewd comment. It was so bizarre, being with someone not even be a little disgusted or annoyed or frustrated at him in a situation like this. This _acceptance_ , while it should be a given, was so unusual, so unexpected… if he hadn’t suddenly needed to hurl again he would have said something in thanks, in appreciation.

“I’m going to get Gwyneth,” Dorian started and Julien could practically _hear_ his frown.

“N-no, don’t,” he said weakly, in between spasms, “she’s probably fast asleep… I don’t want to disturb her.”

"Is that right? No… other reasons you might wish to continue-"

The mark's green electric haze continued to brighten and crackle, enough to stop Dorian mid-sentence and grab both of their attentions.

"Jules? Are you doing that?"

"Wha? No, no, I'm- I'm not doing anything." Julien's voice heightened with panic as he squeezed his eyes shut, willing it to stop. "Is it doing anything?"

“Forget Gwyn, we need Solas.”

“No please!” Julien choked, voice trembling ever so slightly, “Don’t leave me alone…”

Frozen in the doorway by Julien's plea, Dorian felt torn. Getting Solas was the sensible thing to do; he was certainly the most knowledgeable when it came to the Anchor and would undoubtedly know at least where to start with stabilizing it. But the way Julien had spoken just now, the _desperation_ in his voice… he needed him here; needed the support and reassurance, needed someone to lean on, to help shoulder the stress. And so, instead of doing the reasonable thing, Dorian turned and resumed pressing slow, warm circles into his lower back, swearing to himself if it got any worse he’d sprint down that hall so fast Julien would hardly have the time to miss him.

"Okay, it's okay. I can stay if that's what you want, Amatus. I'm here."

He huddled as close as Julien allowed him, which became increasingly closer with each passing moment as the mark's glow began to lessen and the trembling ground to an eventual halt.  Julien took a few deep breaths and sat back up, nuzzling and cuddling himself into Dorian’s shoulder, burying his face in the warm flesh there while he sobbed dryly.

He just felt _exhausted_ ; more so than he had felt earlier. What the catalyst for this bout of _awfulness_ had been, he had no idea. All he knew for sure was it would probably get a lot worse before it got better and that scared the shit out of him.

“Come on,” Dorian crooned gently, running a hand up his spine and tracing little circles between his shoulder blades, “Let’s go to bed.”

Julien nodded slowly but couldn’t summon the energy to move beyond just that, so, after an extended moment of nothing, Julien found himself squeaking as Dorian’s lifted him off the ground and carried him over to the bed, placing him gently onto the mattress before pulling the blankets over him. Julien let out a big yawn and rolled over as Dorian climbed into bed behind him, snuggling and nuzzling his face in between Julien’s shoulders, planting little soft kisses here and there until his eyes became too troublesome to keep open any longer.

 

* * *

 

"Stop twitching like that."

A tall dark figure paced in a circle in front of a young child who's head twisted to the side sporadically without abating.

"We can't help it." the child responded with hiccups in volume as it spoke.

"You couldn't have found a better person to dwell in? This one is practically useless. You can barely stand on your own."

Focused on the figure in a way that was far beyond it's years, The child's eyes glinted impishly. "A fair disguise we thought, is it not?"

"Hardly _fair_ , but I see your point." The figure stared back a moment, "On the other hand you may need to find a more capable one. I've made a new discovery that I must act on lest things be blown by a dangerous wind beyond our control. I suggest you find an adult, someone with means."

The child became serious, eyes still locked on even through the tremors. "The adults are not easy to persuade, not the ones who are capable, as you desire. Nor have we heard about any of these 'changes', what plans have you made again without consulting the Red One?"

Casting out an arm in a sweeping arc, the long shall swung aside to reveal a fine tunic that was quite out of place for the setting of Darktown. "And what if I were able to do that? I am certain 'the Red One' would agree with me, that letting the bonds of reality shred apart and destroy everything would be the poorer choice. Am I wrong? Or does an imbecilic creature, with no concept of life and death, wish to tell me which is wiser?" Not waiting for a response, the shrouded figure continued their rant. "And don't you speak to me as though I'm the lesser here! Oh what's the point, no season with a fool spend, and yet here I am, with no one but you yammering in my ears."

The large figure stooped to crouch, now face to face as well as they could be. "Do this and follow these instructions or you'll be counting one less amongst your ranks."

When the litter of paper fell into the child's trembling hands, the figure had already disappeared.

 

* * *

 

For the events described by Varric in his Tale of the Champion, the city appeared to be moving along as tirelessly as it could with streams of people moving in rapid swells that at times made Julien's head swim. Perhaps it was the rebuilding, or maybe a renewed sense of patriotism that brought life into the ash covered town, but it was growing more and more obvious that the way forward was being led by such a mishmash of people. He stumbled past a team of people passing out flyers that mentioned working bees and various community groups which he stuffed into a pocket politely, not wishing to be stopped to talk about the benefits of an aqueduct system.

The morning was so far looking up, despite the nauseating night leading into restless sleep. Julien just wanted an hour or two for himself before the meeting with Fletcher and the obligation was poured onto him by everyone; like standing under a shower of hot rancid oil. Facing the fact that this wasn't going to be a joyful homecoming but an attack on his own home made him sick.

With a stream of yawns he had crawled from the bed to a belly full of dread, deciding he needed more arrows as he washed his face and climbing down the drainpipe with his essentials. Nothing else was allowed in his head for the next few hours, not while his feet fell one after the other along the market street, searching for a store.

He yawned again loudly as he pulled his scarf upward to protect his neck and face from the early morning’s chill wind. Tiredness permeated every fibre of his being. No matter how late he went to bed, he was always up with the sun - no exceptions. And sleeping in or napping was simply not an option, not unless he wanted to feel groggy and horrible for the entire day. So here he was, up with the birds and watching the merchants set up their displays.

After pacing around awkwardly for a few moments he decided going to sit on the wall of a garden bed while he waited would make him seem less eager. Spotting one nearby with at least a moderate amount of effort put into the health of it, his interest soured as he approached it; unsightly tufts of grass and dandelions sprouted out in random places, completely taking away from the beautiful frosty-white gardenias. He looked about to make sure no one was watching then began picking the weeds from the dirt, tossing them unceremoniously to the side. Whoever was in charge of looking after these planters obviously weren’t very good at their job.

"You ought to expect a long day ahead if you intend to pick all of them." A man's voice, accent strange, commented jokingly from a side.

"Yes I'm seeing that." Julien remarked as he looked to see who they were. "it's just a habit of mine."

The man seemed to have just come down the nearby steps, wearing a light coloured shawl draped asymmetrically across his torso, hanging down to his fingertips. "You're far too gorgeous to fret over weeds."

Julien smiled at the complement but felt a wave of irony lick the back of his teeth. "No, really. I just hate dandelions."

"Don't touch those nettles then." He pointed where Julien had reached his hands.

The sting of nettles was a terrible experience so Julien whipped his eyes down to what he was doing, pulling back to avoid the bite. But he couldn't see any, even when he leaned in to search the underbrush. "Don't worry, I've got gloves on, and there's nothing-"

A dull sound was all he registered, like someone cracking their fist against a door, as his eyes rolled back and he toppled forward, unconscious into the shrubbery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying all these weird new events, and please don't forget that Comments and Kudos are the lifeblood. 
> 
> ~Kim & Kill


	42. Crying When You're Mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tides  
> 4/8
> 
> Ahhhhh! Sorry for the delay - this chapter was being particularly difficult with us.
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with us!  
> ~Kim & Kill

Aphel woke with little resistance to the sound of a particularly loud seagull squawking from outside her window. With a few pops and cracks of her bones, she rose and stretched her sleep-heavy limbs, let out a groan and looked about at the pile of clothes she’d discarded on the floor the night before. Sniffing the cleanest and pulling them on, she strapped her belts tightly with practiced efficiency. Her armour was cold where it met skin and heavier than usual but wearing it was such a habit nowadays that she barely registered putting it on until she was already fully dressed. She longed for the easy days of hunting in cured leathers and foot wraps. 

"I keep dreaming, I thought you said the tea would help?" she mumbled through her dry throat. Solas looked to be still dreaming, laid out with his arms and legs slightly sprawled. She couldn't hear his light snoring however so she waited for his response.

"It will. Give it time."

She rubbed her eyes, frowning. "What if I take two cups instead of one?"

"Your stomach won’t thank you for your impatience."

"I can't function like this. They make me so exhausted, isn't there something better?"

Solas rolled and curled behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist. "You could try talking about it."

"Hmm."

He kissed her neck. "If not me, then your brother perhaps?"

Aphel tried to sigh away the tightness in her chest. "I want to. It's just…" the thought of regurgitating those images and thoughts made her physically ill. Her throat tightened and her pulse quickened. She didn't have the right to thrust that on anybody else. "I just need time."

He held her a little tighter. "As long as you need."

Solas dressed quickly after taking the time to write out his dreams while Aphel let her gaze drift out the window across the packed city. They stepped out together, joining the group gathering for lunch but where Aphel's dreams would have usually continued to pinch at her between the silences, the quarrel around Varric's table served enough distraction and gave her uncomfortable expression an external cause.

"I respect your concern but you just don't know him as well as we do," Andre spoke to Dorian while poking a fork into his slice of pie, inspecting it's quality visually before allowing it into his mouth.

Pacing along the far end of the table, Dorian glared at Andre's back. "And if I'm correct? What harm is there in making an effort?"

"A great harm, one that never fails to amuse him. It's a waste of man-power and time that needs to be spent on this plan we've all been waiting to hear." Not being one to speak with his mouth full, Andre refrained from taking any more of the rather disappointing meal. 

“How is it you care about this plan more than Julien’s _life_?” Dorian’s voice was taking on a rather sharp edge. “We can’t discuss it until he’s here anyway! He should have been back at least an hour ago-”

“Dorian, please. Calm down, you’re being melodramatic,” Celeste said evenly, seemingly more concerned with the heat of her tea than the situation at hand, “He just does this. One time he told us he was going out to get a pair of shears and ended up staying at our uncle Roy's for two weeks. This is normal.”

Dorian piqued with anger, enough that Aphel automatically moved to his defence, placing herself between the two sides. "Settle down," she placed a  hand on Dorian's arm, tagging herself in with a gentle squeeze, "If Dorian is this concerned I think it would be neglectful not to take him seriously."

"Oh, don't misunderstand, I am taking Ser Pavus perfectly serious. It's Julien who hasn't earned that from us yet," Andre scoffed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gwyn called from the doorway, arms folded over her chest with an irritated expression on her face, “I agree with Aphel; if anyone knows Julien well enough to know something is wrong, it’s Dorian.”

“Dorian has only spent a short amount with him, Gwyn,” Andre said carefully, making uncertain eye contact with her, “He wouldn’t know how fickle he actually is.”

“Oh? And you would?” Gwyn snapped, crossing the threshold and coming to stand with the other two, “You guys barely even make the time to actually talk to him, how would you know ‘how he really is’? The both of you didn’t even notice how… how upset he was back on the ship. You don’t get to say stuff like that when you don’t even care!”

“Enough Gwyn,” Celeste said, her tone as rigid as steel, enough so Gwyn took a step back, “Think whatever you like about us but don’t ever say we don’t care”

“We’ve just had more experience with him than you, don’t take it personally,” Andre added, hoping to soften the sting of Celeste’s sharpness.

“Yeah and whose fault is that?” Gwyn spat back, “I’m going to get my staff. _I’ll_ help you look for him.”

When Aphel looked to her, Celeste simply shrugged. "You can go look if you like but I swear to you he's just gone off somewhere. I would absolutely come with you if I doubted that in the least."

The scene was almost baffling but by now Aphel had come to realise how dysfunctional Julien's relationships with his siblings were. Not that it was anyone's fault in particular but a certain name came to mind.

If Quentin weren't dying she definitely would've spoken her opinion aloud. Instead she nodded quietly.

"Your confidence is reassuring Celeste but whatever you need Dorian, I'm with you" she told him, hoping to calm his outrage.

"Yes, thank-you. At least some of us are taking heed," Dorian replied with a slight huff.

Aphel placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and looked at him with a concerned frown, “We should grab some food to take wit-“

“I-I sh-should-” Though quiet, Andre's shaky voice drew her attention, the obvious tremble pointedly uncharacteristic of him.

His chair scraped along the floor hard and he rose abruptly enough to upset the glassware, his water spilling over both the table and Celeste.

“Andre!” the woman growled, annoyed for the barest of moments before she saw her brother’s face, “Dre, are you-”

“I’m sorry- I-I need to go,” he managed to blubber out in-between tremors of breath, face heated and contorted with grief and dismay, eyes misting up with what Aphel assumed would turn to tears. 

He moved to bolt out, tripping over himself slightly and running into the side of the table before making it out of the door and up the stairs faster than Aphel thought possible. She stared after him, stunned to stillness as Celeste ran after him, calling out his name desperately. 

“He must have told Gwyneth his little secret,” Dorian said grimly, a little sign of sympathy.

"I can't imagine what else could cause _that_ reaction," she mumbled.

At the same time, Feit tumbled down the stairs just as quickly, looking about for an answer to the strange end of the conversation and the sounds of doors slamming.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Julien became aware of when he woke was the tilted gravity making his head spin, the feeling of a rather muscular arm wrapped around his thighs and the hand holding onto his arm. Then came the uncomfortable bobbing up and down the slight swaying and the pressure of tightly bound rope around his ankles and wrists which tightened as his arms and legs attempted to swing to save himself from the disorientation. Realisation hit him a moment later: he was slung over someone’s shoulder. 

Jerking reflexively at the shoulder jutting into his abdomen, he cursed himself for ruining the element of surprise.

“Ah, he awakens,” that voice with the unusual accent from before.

Julien cringed at the memory. He’d been embarrassingly easy to capture. The Herald of Andraste: bested by the old ‘hey what’s that?’ trick. He cleared his throat.

“So, you a fan or did someone send you?” he smarmed, trying his best to win back even a little shred of his dignity even as he was tumbled down onto a stool which he only managed to stay perched on because of the solid grip the man had on his shirt.

"Would you believe me if I said a bit of both?"

Had his captor not been so tall, Julien wouldn't have been surprised by the pointed ears poking out from his wild dark hair and, had he not flirted with Julien so openly, the same might have been said for his charming smile and brazen wink.

"You're joking, right? Or you're just really bad at picking up dates… figuratively."

He chuckled and patted Julien's bad shoulder, squeezing it until a memory of pain caused him to wince.

"You tease. Don't worry about a thing, my Lord," he waved his hand, "You see, I understand you believe that by launching an attack you'll somehow save your family. Am I wrong?"

Ah, so it was his mother who had sent him. Relaxing his facial muscles as best he could was becoming a skill, Julien realised, though if this were going to end with torture he might need more luck than skill. He _really_ hoped it wouldn't end in torture, he hated the idea of being tortured. So the hope he held onto was that Dorian or someone would realise he should have been back by now and that maybe Mother wouldn't really want him to be killed… or hurt.

"No, no, none of that." His captor snapped his fingers quickly in front of Julien's eyes. "No one knows where you are and nobody even thinks you're missing. You do realise you have an awful habit of fleeing whenever you are stressed, don't you? Not the best reputation for a man of your status."

 _Shit_. He hadn’t thought of that. The whispers of panic began to set in, not only at the fact that no one was coming for him but also apparently this man could read minds. Dorian would come… surely? He didn’t have a reason to be gone so long. Dorian would know … maybe hours from now. Maybe even a day. Who knew how far away they’d be by then. His inner Celeste emerged, telling him to calm down. If there was only thing he could control it was how he appeared and being panicked and desperate would get him less than nowhere.

Gradually his eyes flicked about the place, trying to find a landmark or something he could use to figure out where he was but all he saw was the wooded surrounds of a forest. Shit! Even if he did somehow manage to escape, he’d be terribly lost until nightfall when the stars were out along with the bears. He swallowed hard, the useless information began building up again. If he found a weapon… he’d have a chance.

“So, you’ve been spying on me then? How do you know so much?”

"Such a quick thinker but knowing that doesn't help you at all, cutie." Coal coloured eyes inspected Julien's one at a time, flicking back and forth over and over as one would when reading. "You can't guess where we are either because this isn't a real place. Just a backdrop I've planted in your mind. For all you know even the rope binding you could be fake. Hah! Only joking, but it's fun to see you struggle." He stood back now, taking a seat on what appeared to be a stone embedded in the earth. "You can call me Kalvin, I'd really love to get to know you better too, more than I already do anyhow."

Maker, this man was intimidating. Cunning. Manipulative. Was he really joking or was that just another trick? Julien didn’t know anything about magic so even if he was under some spell, he’d have no idea how to break free. Fuck! He decided going on the assumption that all of this was real was better than just sitting by and not doing anything. There had to be some way out of this but the best bet was to earn his confidence, play along. This Kalvin was bound to slip up at some point.

“Very well, Kalvin, I’ll play,” he said smoothly, “How about we take turns answering questions, hmm? You go first.”

Eyes widened into his smile as Kalvin tilted his head curiously. "How chivalrous. I do hope you're good at lying though because I can't stand easy games." He slowly began tugging off a glove, finger by finger. "How are there two of you with an Anchor?"

Well at least he wasn’t beating around the bush. There was no way in hell he would tell this man about Aphel and Solas’ spell. No. Way. Who knew what he would do with that kind of information.

“You don’t mess around do you? Right to the tough question,” he smiled widely, “Andraste blessed us both, of course - too many rifts for one man.” He paused for a moment before adding: “Surprised you didn’t know that already.”

"Andraste has such a giving heart." Kalvin stepped up quickly and cracked Julien below the sternum without hesitation, leaving his diaphragm paralyzed and his stomach trembling as he suffocated. "Lie to me well and I'll forgive you but I can't stand being underestimated. Take your time, don't rush. You can ask when you're ready. After all, we're in no hurry."

“F-fuuck!”

Julien's body quaked as he gasped frantically, trying to get air into his lungs and to keep himself from falling off his seat. After a few moments sweet relief hit him just as hard and as quickly as the pain had, his breathing returning to normal and his eyes glistening with tears that had spilled uncontrollably. He decided he preferred the punctured lung to this bullshit; at least he hadn’t cried in front of the demon back then.

"How long have you been following me?"

Kalvin's shoulder's dropped. "Really? That's the first thing you want to ask? Okay, hmm, since you were seven."

Julien frowned, not quite able to comprehend. Seven? That didn't make sense.

"Oh don't think so hard about it, there's hardly much to question." Kavlin chuckled at his own joke like an old man would. “Anyway onto my next question…”

Julien shuffled apprehensively as Kalvin paced back and forth in front of him, stroking his chin as if he were deep in thought and _really_ trying to think of something good to ask. What was he going to ask? What their specific plans were? Their route to Ostwick? How many of them were there? How he-

“Tell me,” Kalvin said finally, flashing Julien a grin than made him feel nervous, “Is Dorian better than Marlow? In bed, I mean.”

Julien felt his stomach drop and bile rise far enough he felt it burn the back of his throat. The look of utter delight on Kalvin’s face told him his reaction had shown on his face. Bastard!

“If you’ve been following me for as long as you seem to have, you’d know the answer to that,” Julien managed to say evenly, swallowing the lump in his throat and trying to think of something other than _that._

Kalvin tsked him.

“That’s not a real answer, Jules,” Kalvin mused, stepping closer but out of head-butt reach, “tell me the truth. I promise I won’t tell your darling _Amatus_ if he misses out on that number one spot.”

From the expectant look on Kalvin’s face, Julien knew he wouldn’t take anything less than a straight answer and that frustrated him beyond measure. He didn’t want to think about it; didn’t want to even let his mind contemplate the answer but contemplate he did. Of course Dorian was better; there was more to sex than the physicality, there was an exchange of oneself to the other, sharing something meaningful. He had that with Dorian.

Then why was is so hard to get the words out?

Some part of him felt guilty. It wasn’t fair to compare the two like that, especially when it came to _this_ particular topic. Dorian was certainly the preferred partner, _that_ was for sure but Marlow had been...

Julien's face became heated; a sudden influx of vivid memories flashed through his mind like lightning. He was in the wine cellar of the Drowned Nymph, a hand kneaded at his hip, another entwined and pulled his hair, a set of teeth grazed his neck as the strong body before him ground against his-

His previous feeling of guilt tripled. Why was he evem _thinking_ about it? The time he’d spent contemplating had only made his captor’s smile grow - he was playing right into his hands, reacting exactly as expected.

“Dorian. Dorian’s better,” he finally said, shaking the remaining thoughts from his mind.

"Of course he is." Kalvin reassured him ingenuinely as his smile widened, "how could you say otherwise? What if he heard you?" He waved a hand to the space behind Julien, out of his field of view.

Julien straightened, twisted this way and that, looking for Dorian for a desperate second before realising the farce; another ploy to get him to react. _You bastard, you fucking bastard._

Instead he tightened his lips, holding in his anger while he thought of his next question. It was difficult. The whole situation was a ridiculous play of mental torture. What was the point? Why was so much effort being put into keeping him alive? This was just the expedition of a super egomaniac with some vague sense of loyalty to Julien's mother. At least, that's all he could figure out.

"Why have you bothered to kidnap me?"

“Now _that_ is a decent question!” Kalvin clasped his hands together with a loud clap before beginning to pace back and forth, thinking for a few moments on how he would word his response. “Simply put: I ‘ _bothered’_ to kidnap you because your life depends on it. Had I not done anything you’d be doing far worse than throwing up all over the floor.”

Julien wasn’t even surprised Kalvin knew about that and decided _not_ to think about this man watching him getting intimate with Dorian.

“My life depends on it? How so? How is taking me away doing me a favour?”

“Tsk tsk Jules. That’s _three_ extra questions but I’ll let it slide – just this once.” Kalvin winked at him before his amusement turned to seriousness. “You need to keep away from Aphel, she’s making your mark worse - you can feel it, can’t you?”

Julien gazed into those black eyes of Kalvin’s, searching for even a shred of falsity but he found nothing; not even a hint of amusement. He wasn’t sure what he should make of it. Scepticism was the safest bet, then if he was lying, he would be expecting it.

“A likely story.” Julien adjusted himself in his seat, testing the rope binding his hands as he did so. Nope. Still no give. “I think you’re lying, trying to cause dissent within the ranks.”

“Believe what you like, Julien. The thing about the truth is that it remains a reality whether or not you choose to put any stock into it.” He held Julien’s stare for an uncomfortable amount of time before moving on. “Anyway, I believe it’s _my_ turn to ask again?”

Julien didn't bother to argue, trying wipe the tears away onto his shoulder as best he could. The more he spoke the more he seemed to give away - even the slightest expressions were off limits. He shrugged.

"What are you most afraid of?"

This was another test, Julien didn't even raise his eyes to analyse Kalvin's expression, the man was too good at this game.

"Spiders."

It was up there, but not really his greatest fear. Unless they crawled into his mouth while he was sleeping, which probably happened more than once in the past. Julien chuckled, remembered releasing various beetles onto Andre's sleeping body, the very ones he'd questioned them about collecting earlier that day.

Kalvin chuckled as well; had he seen Julien's memory? Maybe. At least it wasn't anything embarrassing. It was his turn now.

“What’s your connection to my Mother?” he finally asked, "How do you know her?"

Kalvin sat back down and rubbed his hands together as though conjuring the tale from the air. "Scarlet Trevelyan, fine name by the way, very fine. She's almost like an aunt or perhaps a sister to me. We've known each other for… how old are you? Just kidding, don't you dare think of your mother that way." His jocular tone was a terrifying contrast to the cruel glint in his eyes, as though each flinch from Julien gave him the utmost joy. "Exactly how we have that connection is… best saved for your next question."

Again Julien let his head drop, this time hoping that he could save the thoughts in his head from being extracted by this man's strange magic. "Fine."

"Gwyn was possessed yet she broke free. How did this happen?"

“How could you possibly know that?” Julien snapped, losing his cool at the mention of his twin.

“Tsk tsk, not your turn. Answer my question: how did she break free?”

The expression on his face was deadly serious and Julien really, really didn’t want to be gut-punched again.

“Litany of Adralla,” he snarled, “how do you know about Gwyn?”

Kalvin brushed the air as though it were the most obvious thing, "Sadly Jules, that Litany doesn't help anyone whose already possessed, oh but you didn't even know that? Or did you? I wonder if you've thought to ask her what it was like? No certainly not! You can barely speak to her and you haven't even spent a moment alone together. Now _that_ is a sad story.” He paused for a moment to chuckle in such a condescending way, it made Julien’s blood boil. “As for your question, my partner told me about it; how everything went out of hand because of that other one with the mark."

That was curious; had he not been watching himself? Then it was probably not true that Kalvin had been stalking him since childhood. Then was it even true he had a connection to Julien's mother? All the lies and half-truths were blurring Julien's ability to focus. Too much information and misinformation without knowing which was which made the back of his eyes ache with tension.

"Who in the hell is your partner?"

The ring Kalvin had begun pacing around his captive wasn't helping, not Julien at least. "Just a grunt, hardly worth mentioning."

"I asked who, not what, Julien gritted between his teeth.

"So you did! But not everyone _is_ a _who_ , Julien. You really ought to ask your twin about that little conundrum, oh, well I guess you can't _now_. Sorry." His little chuckle stamped the irony into Julien's guts.

The anxiety welling there did nothing but grow, the rope refused to budge and not even the the sky gave him any clue to their location. Maybe it was true - this illusion to unhinge him, make him falter at every answer he believed to be true. Solas explained how the magic had held the soldiers in Skyhold, how it _was_ reality for them and how it became so for his own father too. But did that mean Kalvin had been behind his father's actions? Would they have noticed an extra man among their ranks?

"Who cast the illusion on my father?" Julien suddenly shouted.

"No, it's my turn." Kalvin shook his head. "Where did Aphel come from?"

Julien almost growled protectively but took a deep calming breath before he answered. "Skyhold."

Kalvin screwed his eyebrows up in confusion.

"Who cast the illusion on my father?" Julien repeated carefully.

"Not I, not anyone. He deluded himself. Sorry Jules but your papa just isn't the man you thought he was. Don't you hate it when everyone you care about turns out to be trying to stab you in the back?"

"Yes," Julien responded quickly, "how did you meet my mother?"

Kalvin laughed again and placed his leg across his thigh so he could lean on it like a table. "Smart. We met when I was introduced by my master. Yes, it's true, the ears aren't fake, I am a bit of a freak of nature. But I see it all as bonus features; tall, handsome, yet exotic. A little like that man of yours."

Julien's snarl couldn't be contained this time. "You’re a slave."

"Kinky isn't it? No, I'm kidding. No I've been a free man since before I can remember. I just call them that because it's funny to see people's reactions. Southerners are hilarious! But! I won't let you trick me again so here is my question: where is, no wait... what are you going to do if you reach your mother and she tries to kill you?" Kalvin was up now, pacing, setting all his attention on his captive.

“I’ll- I’ll do what has to be done,” Julien hissed, frustrated beyond measure. ”Who is your Master?”

It would have been easy to correct him that he in-fact had no master but the boy looked just that slightest bit confidant that he was about to receive the answer of all answers. It made Kalvin's jaw quiver with anticipation.

"You know who she is, Julien. Yes, yes, go on, try to think, try to remember. So many parties; aristocrats, arlessas, ternas, ladys and royalty. You've met so, so many irrelevant people it must be hard to stretch that brain so far back. Oh you’re close Jules, so close. Who, who, who could she be?"

"Shut up! You're not answering my question!" Julien raged.

Kalvin came close, his hand squeezing Julien's bad shoulder again as he leaned him back until the only thing keeping him in his seat was the anchor of Kalvin's hand and his own toes tucked tightly around the legs of the stool. "I. Won't. Tell. You. But I'll tell you this; She knows I'm here, she knows you're here and she knows where each and every one of you are, including Aphel. But we won't be here for long so for now you should sleep."

Kalvin's calm fist cracked Julien, first in the face, the second one putting him to sleep, tipping from the stool completely.

"That was so very tempting."

 

* * *

 

By the time Gwyn returned to her room, Lysette had already awoken and dressed. Before she could have a chance to speak, Gwyn told her what had transpired downstairs at the table. The response she got had been short, abrupt, and not what she’d been looking for at all.

“You mean to say you won’t accompany me?” Gwyn all but seethed at her supposed Templar protector.

“That is exactly what I am saying,” Lysette responded rather sternly as she aggressively pulled and tucked the sheets on the bed back into a clean state, “we’ve spent the past few weeks traveling hard; a nice day of relaxation would do both yourself and me a world of good. ”

“We’ve just spent _days_ cooped up in a ship! We weren’t exactly breaking a sweat out there on the sea.”

Lysette huffed for the umpteenth time that day and stood to her full height, eying Gwyn with a look that reached far beyond the simple frustration she’d shown moments ago.

“Perhaps you did not but _I_ certainly did!”

Gwyn rolled her eyes. Not an unusual implication from a Templar. She was somehow lazy because she didn’t engage in strenuous activity? Whatever. She let out a breath of frustration and tried her best to let the comment wash over her.

“That’s fine, Ser. I’ll just find another Templar to accompany me-”

“Absolutely not,” Lysette stopped her mid-sentence, “Commander Cullen himself assigned me to you. You are _my_ ward and no one else’s. I’ve tried to be patient with you, Gwyneth; I’ve gone along with your little schemes, let it slide when you wandered about the ship without me but I am putting my foot down here. We are going to rest for today. That is final.”

The flames of Gwyn’s temper flared.

“So now you just want to sit around on your ass all day while my _brother_ is missing? Even if you don’t care for him, isn’t it your duty as a soldier of the Inquisition to protect him?”

Gwyn could see her eye twitching from across the room.

“Protect him from what, falling off a bar-stool? He’s only been gone a few hours, that's no reason to be worried about him; It’s a free day after all - he doesn’t have to be anywhere until the afternoon and even _then_ , he will more than likely skip out on the meeting as he so habitually does. If you ask my opinion, I’d say Ser Pavus provides him with far too much idolatry; more so since your stunt in Skyhold.”

There it was: the point of no return. The way she'd spat the word 'stunt', like it had been some game to her; she had to shake the memories from climbing their way into her brain just at the mention of it. Gwyn felt her rage bubble to the surface and wash over her like ice cool waves of the sea on a burning hot day, shrouding her in an oddly satisfying feeling - gratification from pressing someone’s buttons just so. Lysette was getting closer to jumping off the deep end and Gwyn was so ready to see her do it. So she calmly moved across the room and picked up her staff from where it leaned against the dresser, casually loosening the fabric that tied its splintered halves together while she responded.

“Have you always been such a massive bitch or is that something that’s happened recently?” Gwyn couldn’t stop the words from coming out of her mouth even if she wanted to.

“I beg your pardon?”

Gwyn revelled in her outraged tone.

“You heard me: you’re a massive bitch. Are you capable of being anything other than a judgmental sack of shit?”

Lysette’s gob smacked expression lasted for a few delicious moments before her own fury returned three-fold. It would take only a few more shoves from Gwyn before the blight broke out.

“Are you capable of being anything other than a _burden_ to the Inquisition?”

 Her words hit Lysette like a brick to the face.

“Me? You’ve done nothing but cause complication after complication ever since you arrived. If it weren’t for _you_ none of this would have happened; Lord Trevelyan would have simply returned to Ostwick and dealt with it in a swift manner - we wouldn’t be wasting resources fixing the Inquisitor’s _personal issues!”_

Gwyn felt her eyes sting as her tears began welling. Lysette’s words were true; her Father’s fall from grace _was_ entirely her fault; a thought she’d been doing her best to keep safely suppressed and bottled away. She allowed herself to feel some of it, enough to create the sort of exhibition she needed as she snapped through her staff over a knee and threw it to the ground at Lysette's feet.

"If you're so sick of me, then you should stop being such a hypocrite and pretending you give a shit about my well-being. Maybe we'll both be able to get something fucking done today." Gwyn stormed past her, locking the door before she began slamming her fists against it and screaming for help.

Lysette grabbed at her arms to get her to stop, but too late she realised what Gwyn had been planning. It was the Commander himself who broke down the door and took in the scene: broken staff; mage in tears while her protector grappled with her arms.

Gwyn didn't look the least bit sorry when she apologised to Lysette for making her 'panic' after making a scene about her twin but surely her reaction was a little strong, wasn't it commander?

“C-Commander. Ser. I didn’t- She’s lying! She did all of this - she set me up!” Lysette desperately tried to defend herself.

“That’s enough! I don’t care who did what - I’m ending it. You stay here until I come back to deal with you - Gwyneth, you’re coming with me,” Cullen said briskly, placing a hand on her shoulder and leading her out of the room before she had any more opportunities to rub her victory in Lysette’s face.

“Are you alright? Not hurt?” he asked as he shut the door with a little more force than necessary, as if he were trying to prove a point.

“The only things damaged are my feelings and my staff,” she said with a sniffle, really trying to play up the pathetic, abused mage angle, “I’ll be ok.”

He squinted at her as if he wasn’t entirely buying what she was selling.

“That’s a relief; It’s not like Lysette to _attack_ her charges like that. I’d say something must have really been bothering her for her to react in such an explosive way,” he said carefully, guiding her away from the door by the shoulder once more.

That was certainly not the reaction she’d thought she’d get. He hurried her down the hall into an unoccupied room and told her to sit on the bed for a moment until he returned. It was then, when she was finally alone with her thoughts that Lysette’s words crept in.

_Since your stunt in Skyhold._

Her stunt. As if it had been _her_ choice to say and do all those horrible things. She supposed it had been, in a way. She _had_ let that spirit in, even if it had been under false pretences. Her hands met her face in a cradling motion as the realization hit her.

They didn’t trust her.

Why would they, after what she’d _been_? Honestly, she was surprised no one had even _asked_ her about what had happened. She was very grateful they _hadn’t;_ thinking back on that time was almost was horrifying as when she’d been living it.

She was thankful for the creak of the door as it swung back open and knocked her from that downward spiral of anxiety and despair.

“My lady?” a curious, unfamiliar voice came from the doorway.

Gwyn lifted her head to see an unfamiliar Templar standing in the doorway, his expression a mixture of slight confusion and concern.

“Yes, Ser…?” she began, wiping the real tears from her eyes with her sleeve.

“Rowan,’ he said as he looked behind his shoulder quickly and slipped into the room, closing it quietly behind himself, “I apologize for the sudden intrusion but I couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation with Lysette. Is the Inquisitor truly missing?”

Gwyn’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. This Templar had heard their conversation, their _entire_ conversation and his reaction was not to report to his Commander but to come see her? She nodded her head. She wasn’t one to look a gift-horse in the mouth.

“Dorian thinks so.”

“I’ll help you find him then,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “I was stationed here a few years, I can guide you around the city.”

Andraste must really have a soft spot for her brother if she would send this much help his way.

“You would do that? Even after I-”

“Threw Lysette under the carriage?” Ser Rowan said with a smile so perfect, if the circumstances weren’t so dire it would have turned her legs to jelly, “Certainly. I don’t want to be interrogated by the Commander any more than you do. Come on, let’s leave before he finishes with her.”

“He told me to stay here - won’t leaving just make things worse?” she added, beginning to regret certain recent life decisions.

“Maybe but you seemed to be in a bit of a hurry to go. It will be easier to deal with the consequences once the Inquisitor is back, yes? He is rather good at getting the heat off you.”

She frowned at him, not entirely sure of what he meant by that, but got up and followed him out of the room regardless.

There were more Templars posted at the end of the hall and Gwyn found herself holding her breath as they approached. Did Commander Cullen tell them to not let her pass? The two guarding the door eyed her up and down with a neutral stare. Her heart rate increased.

Rowan flashed them a lazy smile and made a joke about being on baby-sitting duty for slacking off. They weren’t going to buy that! She’d just made a big scene, why would they just- _Oh_. Rowan’s hand found the space between her shoulder blades and he pushed her forward ever-so slightly, guiding her past the chuckling guards.

“Our dear Commander hasn’t made it down here yet,” Rowan whispered to her as they made their way to the stairs, “we’d best hurry up before he does though.”

She gaped at him.

“I have to ask - why are you helping me? You could get in a lot of trouble.”

“Because sitting in a room all day is boring and part of me hopes to be sent back to Skyhold; I’ve never been one for long-distance travel,” he said so plainly Gwyn couldn’t help but snort out a sharp laugh.

 

* * *

 

A strong smoky scent led Aphel out of her train of thought, one that had been going back and forth from Julien to her own world and the people she'd left hopeless and wandering. Julien was the immediate problem; she couldn't track him and didn't know the streets well enough to simply go off searching. This frustration allowing the latent issues bracketing her to the be thrust forefront. Incusing the thrumming guilt that all of this was causing her to neglect the very company she'd promised to lead into peace.

Dorian had been there as she and Julien vanished, while Josephine, Cullen, and Blackwall could only go on the accounts given. A ghastly thought came to her: what if they thought Dorian had assassinated her? What if they did something to him out of desperation? No, Cassandra wouldn't… or at least Josephine would make sure… Leiliana might… if Cullen hadn't already… But The Iron Bull wouldn't allow it, would he? Dorian and he had spent time getting closer, which obviously meant something to them both, didn't it?

Before she realised it, she'd already been hacking away at a mangled looking tree with her greatsword to quell the frustration and anxieties that were building.

The almost misty valley she'd wandered into, with its familiar carvings and statues of warning to outsiders and welcome to kin, made her brows raise as she realised how quiet it was. No clan was settled; not even the smoulders of one recently gone could be seen. Yet the bitter scent remained to lead her on.

This is wrong. The wind was too calm, the ice covered blades of grass crackled beneath her heals but it barely sent a shiver up her spine as her gaze fell upon the hunched being metres ahead.

"'Dhea?" she sent forth a word of welcome, unsure if they were elvhen.

The body extended, standing tall and pulling their arms as high as they could in a deep stretch. A braid swung down their back in an all too familiar way and they turned slightly, as though contemplating facing Aphel.

"Ea son?" Aphel asked again, not wanting the woman to leave, yet dreading confirmation of who she was, though she herself felt frozen in place.

This time the woman seemed to make up her mind, turning away and running. Letting out a long held in breath, Aphel cleared her throat and swallowed back a lump, making up her mind to also leave. Before she could blink though the woman was not a centimetre away, shivering till her cold breath was on Aphel's face, while her claw-like hands clamped Aphel's arms to her sides, as if she could even gather the notion to move or fight back.

"Ara vherain, mahn daral?" _My lion cub, where are you going?_

The emptiness of Aphel's chest mirrored the valley, heart pounding with loud hollow thuds while her mother's words echoed through her skull. The sword, frozen to her hands as much as the memories trapped in her head, felt as though it had trebled in weight when she raised it to swing through the still air in grief.

"Fuck. Fuck! Fucking Stop! I've had enough!"

She'd had to bite through the inside of her lip just to order the simple task she demanded of her feet. Turn, one, then the next until they faced the city, then forward, keep going, don't stop until you hear a  familiar voice, until you see a familiar face or find yourself tucked close to a warm fire to melt the ice off your feet. She couldn't even raise the greatsword onto the clip on her back, settling with dragging it until she was aware enough of her surroundings to see the dubious looks and hear the scraping of the metal on stone.

It was hard to tell how long it took but when she stopped, she was sat in the hearth of the Hanged Man while Cypress gulped and snorted with some strangers Aphel couldn't recognise but for the poor attempt to copy vallaslin on their young faces.

"Cypress," Aphel mumbled after watching for a while.

"Mm? what's on yer mind?" Cypress burped a little.

"You weren't encouraging them, were you?" Aphel waved at the group of alienage elves. "They've marked themselves for an idea they don't understand."

Cypress cocked her boot upon a low stool and flicked at the grime stuck there with an arrow. "Kin'll do what they do. Don't mind it as much with them, they just given themselves a sense of control where they ain't ever had it before. Told me about some broad livin' out here who told 'em off too but explained the whole rite so's they knew what they were really doin'. Better under a guiding hand than no, yeah?"

Aphel didn't agree but it wasn't something she cared to discuss at length. "You heard any news about Jules?"

"Who? Hah I'm pulling yer leg. Nae, nothing."

"No you haven't heard or no there actually isn't any news?"

"What difference would it make?"

Aphel rolled her eyes and pushed her fingers through her hair. "Where's Feit?"

"Doing the same thing you were doing I guess; if he were here he'd probably say you look like shit."

Cypress didn't repeat herself after Aphel gave her a stunned look.

"What, haven't you looked in a bloody mirror?"

"Not a bloody one."

"Ha Ha. Don't you think you should just… give up on all this business? With the shems? It's nothing to do with you, nothing to do with us."

Aphel was holding back a wave of nausea or maybe she was just trying not to answer those sorts of questions. "I told you before, you can leave any time."

Most of the young tattooed elves had filed out, making the sitting room too quiet for shouting matches. So when Cypress stamped her foot as leaned in close, her snarled whispers were only just audible.

"Don't you talk to me like that ya _mun._ You think I'm letting you out of my sight after you _died_? Almost a year ago? ' _Oh I'm from a different place'_ I don't fucking care."

"But you-"

Cypress grabbed Aphel's ear, mirroring when she was a child, even Aphel's mouth snapped shut involuntarily.

"You died and part o' all of us died. And you fucking _question_ why I'm here? Have you even thought about contacting your parents? Hahren? Not once have you asked me about them and yet you're fretting yourself to death over some shems you barely know. Makes my blood boil."

"They aren't _my_ clan, Cypress!" Aphel growled back finally, then realised how badly it sounded out loud, especially by the look of white hot rage on Cypress' face. Too late to take it back now.

"Well don't fucking say that to your brother." Cypress returned to her standing position, waiting for an apology.

Was it something she could apologize for? Not being someone? Someone who seemed to be a far better person, despite simply being a version of herself. It was as though she was doomed to be the worst part of herself, she could apologise for that at least.

"Sorry. I wish she hadn't died, I wish it could have been me instead."

Cypress blew her nose on her sleeve. "Why?"

The why hadn't really come into it. Why? Because it seemed to be the greatest failure of her life; not dying, not having someone like Julien step in her place.

"Maybe it would have done the world some good." It was bullshit, she didn't need to hear Cypress' backhand to know when her own words were utter gurn dung. "Or maybe I wouldn't have to feel so guilty all the time."

She didn't need to explain _why_ she felt guilty, Cypress nodded heavily like she didn't want to hear the details and took a drink. "Yer ridin' your horse backwards and you look like a git doing it."

"Expert on gits are we?"

"Once I was." She chuckled into her mug. "Yer here now so _be_ here. You were all fucked up by that magic shit, and I know that the head takes the longest to fix isself, but you gotto look where you're going right _now,_ Da'mi. Get some rest. Eat."

"It's difficult." Feels more like impossible.

"You gotto let go of all tha' stuff."

" _You_ sound like you're getting drunk."

"I always sound drunk when I'm not shouting."

"Can we talk about this after Julien comes back?" Aphel begged. "I'm going to go look for him again. Come with?"

Cypress nodded her assent as easily as she downed the last of her ale. "I won't forget."


	43. Cloak and Dagger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tides  
> 5/8
> 
> I would like to sincerely apologize for the long hiatus. The both of us have been suffering from some pretty bad anxiety issues and finding the time, energy and will to write, edit and post this for you all has been quite difficult. I won't say we'll return to a more regular posting schedule but instead that we are working through our lethargy and will bring you more when we can. 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking through the long wait for us, your Kudos and comments are much, much appreciated and bring us much joy and inspiration! Enjoy!
> 
> ~Kim

Andre rubbed at the twitch in his right eyelid, trying not to focus on it, taking deep breaths and counting as though it were a case of the hiccups. As he strode out across the square he did his best to not question whether his fast intense pace would seem suspect of a person hiding turmoil but simply a man going about urgent business that didn't have anything to do with the way he held his coat tight against his chest.

He felt so exposed; too light and infuriatingly open. Still, it didn't matter how sick he felt without it, Cryda would not be finished with his armour. Not even if he ran to her forge and sat in front of the fire or began pumping the bellows himself, what she did took time and patience. Both of which he was feeling rather short of.

He fought an instinctive thought to blame Julien for running off, for making Dorian worry and argue that he was missing, for having Gwyn say those things that were far too honest. Those sharp, truthful words that made Andre flee to his room and fall back against the door which trembled with the weight of his dry sobbing. Julien hadn't done what Andre had done. Gwyn had every right to hate him. He wished he could blame Julien.

Instead he'd blamed the crate that served as a night stand and flung it across the room. Then he vilified the chairs and the nasty bed spread by smashing and tearing them into too many pieces. Celeste stopped shouting at him through the door after a while but when he heard her lock picks scraping and ticking, he took a page from Julien's book and flung himself messily out the window and stretched down from the gutter; dropping down and hoping not to be impaled on the Kirkwall spikes.

So it was that he found himself making his way through the High Town markets; hands shoved into letter stuffed pockets and a rather precious necklace that had his Father's signet ring hanging from it, feeling far too heavy against his chest. He wished he were going to actually see Esther and not just her courier.

It was she that had him weaving through the packed square as quickly as he could, in search for a few specific items. A ridiculous set-up, really. She’d told him to wear a straw hat with three white lilies so her man could recognise him in the crowd, as if anyone from Ostwick _wouldn’t_ recognize him. But he’d decided to humour her anyway and, although he’d never admit it to anyone other than her, he quite liked the idea; it sort of made him feel like he was in one of the espionage stories he enjoyed. All that was missing was a secret language and a threat on the Empress's life.

He spotted the perfect hat, one with a brim that wasn’t too wide and shortly after a florist that sold the flowers he needed. After nipping quickly away from the lunch-time rush he made his way to the edge of where the Chantry was being rebuilt, taking a seat on a low brick wall while he deftly interlaced the flowers into the weave of the hat. He kept an eye on the crowd, searching for the courier who’d be wearing pink chrysanthemums on their hat.

Andre wasn't sure what he'd been expecting but a fairly old, balding man hadn't even been considered a possibility. So while almost believing the whole thing to be a joke or a mistake, he put his own hat on and watched intently as the man approached. A slight tingle in his hands reminded him of just how nervous he actually was about all this.

 "Excuse me," he said a little awkwardly, bringing his hand to his chest and grasping the ring for the strength he needed right now, "forgive me if I am mistaken but are a friend of Esther's?"

Now that he was close up he noticed how the flowers circling the brim were wilted and close to rotting, a mirror of the man's teeth as he smiled.

"I am indeed."

Andre frowned. There was something _off_ about this man, something that made the hairs on his arms stand on end and his stomach churn. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Was this really the kind of person she'd trust?

 “What does she have for me?”

The man pulled from his pocket a stick about as thick as a shaving of wood and the size of a finger, Andre took it, unwrapping it to discover a soft resin, slightly smaller than the paper it had been in. It smelt of trees and was slightly tacky to the touch.

"What is it?"

He shook his head at the question which made Andre look to the wrapping it had been in rather than the object itself, realising that the delicate paper was in fact not simply a small piece, but a carefully, and repeatedly folded piece of thin paper that might even grow to fifty times the size it was now.

"It is a breath freshener," the man finally said, noting that Andre had caught on to the ploy.

His excitement and curiosity piqued. Andre smiled slightly, imagining Esther finding such a thin paper, marking and writing all her information, then patiently folding it until it was an inconspicuous and simple as the wrapping of a candy. He shoved his hand back into his pocket and tugged on his own letter, just about to bring it out before, once more, something about the man's demeanour, perhaps nothing tangible, sparked a fire of doubt in his chest till his hand slowed and stopped, eyes working over him to find what it was that made him feel so strange.

The first thing Andre noted on closer inspection was rather the large scar running across the man’s throat, as though it had been sliced and through some miracle he’d survived. It looked old but still angry - a rather odd injury to have suffered carrying messages about. Perhaps he was new to the profession? Andre seriously doubted Esther would have hired a greenhorn to carry such sensitive information.

Next he noticed how he stood completely still with his hands at his sides, his weight not even resting to one side as one usually would while having a conversation standing. In fact, the more he looked at him, the stiffer he appeared; as though this sort of situation was completely uncomfortable and foreign to him. Odd, seeing as conversing and exchanging items were the very crux of being a courier.

Andre’s gaze met the man’s and a shiver ran down his spine. Those eyes… there was something _not right_ about the eyes as well.

“What’s the story behind that?” Andre asked casually, gesturing to his neck, hoping to draw out more information to get a better read on him before he handed _anything_ over.

The man's too still eyes wandered for the bare second his hand came up to touch the puckered skin. "One that doesn't require telling."

The rejection wasn't a surprise, not even Andre liked talking about his own scars, but there had been no look of recognition in the man's eyes, nothing that suggested a memory triggered; it was disturbing, but not conclusive.

"It looks like an event you'd rather forget. I've come close to death once or twice myself."

The man stared at him almost unblinkingly, letting the silence stretch on for what seemed like an eternity until his raspy voice spoke, “Another story that doesn't require telling." finally tipping his head up to look as the cloudy sky, "is it necessary for this to be dragged on with banter?"

"How is it going by the way? Your business. The state of the city must be reflecting well on workers like you."

“Business is thriving, which is the cause for this haste,” the man took a few steps closer, getting right into Andre’s personal space, "Are you not eager to respond to our friend's good will?"

He did _not_ feel good about giving this man anything, let alone any sensitive information his letters held. Andre’s causal stance changed to a more aggressive one, his eyes squinting and his hand coming to rest softly on the hilt of his sword reflexively.

"I'd hate to keep you from your living, here." Andre brought out a letter rolled gently and tied carefully, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand which dropped it into the couriers who thumbed it suspiciously.

"This is it?"

"Yes, of course," Andre stated confidently.

Before he could oppose however, the courier had torn off the tie and split the seal with no care for its intended recipient, scanning the paper hastily. "This is not the information, this is garbage."

Trying not to be offended at the man's description of his letter to Josephine, Andre growled and picked it up from where it was tossed and crumpled. _Information?_ Since when was it the business of a courier to know the details of a package? He glanced down at the ‘breath freshener’ he’d been given. Was this a fake? Only one way to find out.

He unravelled the paper, revealing a detailed report on troop movements – specifically the Tevinter soldiers in and about Ostwick. Very detailed, very precise very… _not_ Esther’s handwriting or drafting style.

"Neither is this from Esther so we've both been deceived. Tell me who you are now and how you knew to be here."

The man didn't smile, or smirk, or flinch, just tipped his head down as though looking for an answer on Andre's shoes.

"If you won't give it to us willingly, then a threat is easily produced: Your  friend is under the guillotine of our master, so you will behave - _quietly_."

"If you think," Andre shook his head with short, strangled, humourless laughter, "Marlow is already dead, now Esther? I won't continue to be threatened by scum like you." His fist ached with the need to punch this man's face in on itself.

"While we were ordered to keep Lady Fearghasdan alive, this order is easily redacted if you choose it." His eyes barely blinked at the oncoming wave of rage emanating from Andre's aura. "Her life, her family's life, are all in your hands. Do not think we will spare her animals; They will all be gutted and burnt to ashes if you cannot find it within yourself to co-operate. We do take pleasure in flaying the horses…"

"And why should I believe that you have her?" Andre growled through gritted teeth, "Esther is crafty as well as a peerless warrior, I doubt she'd be captured by the likes of you!"

The man casually slipped a hand into his pocket and produced a small necklace on a chain. His stomach dropped. No, surely not… The man tossed it to him and he caught it, the cool metal burning his hand as he flipped his palm up to confirm his fears. The pendant  was cast from pure silver in the shape of a falcon with its wings extended: a gift Royland Trevelyan, Andre's own uncle, had given her when she'd joined the Rangers.

Andre felt his anger boil over, yet through some miracle his facade remained mostly calm. In place of the usual unfathomable, uncontrollable wrath he felt only white-hot rage; a fury manageable enough that he nodded tersely and reached behind himself, making it appear as though he were going for a letter in his back pocket but instead unsheathing the dagger strapped to his lower back. As much as he wanted to run this man through for his words, to bury the blade all the way down to the hilt and watch as the life drained from him, that would technically be murder. In a public place. With hundreds of witnesses. He needed to be careful, to be subtle as to not draw any attention.

So he stepped forward, almost close enough now to be standing on top of him and brought the knife forward, pressing the point hard enough into the man’s abdomen that he would notice it but not draw blood.

“One wrong move and your intestines are going on the floor,” Andre seethed through gritted teeth, “turn around and walk into the alley over there.”

Slowly, the man brought his eyes down to the knife. "Is this how you intend to solve your problems? Only the most short-sighted would believe that killing us could result in a positive outcome."

It was true, he was being reckless but the throbbing anger clouding Andre's vision with red just wasn't making things much clearer. So he pressed just a little more to punctuate his threat.

To Andre's surprise, the man looked up at him with an unsettling smile and took a casual step forward, hardly flinching at all as he impaled himself on the blade. As a jerk reaction, Andre tried to pull back but was held fast by a hand on his bicep and another wrapped around his own grip on the dagger, holding him in place and uncomfortably close to this strange man.

"I am not threatened by you," his voice took on a dangerous edge that made Andre's blood run cold, "So when I let you go we'll go into the alleyway, as you _suggested_ , and we'll discuss our business in a calm manner."

All Andre could do was nod and stare at him as he walked into the side street, seemingly not even bothered by the fact he'd just been stabbed. Maybe he'd just imagined it. Maybe through some kind of trickery, this odd man had missed the blade somehow.

As he followed suit into the alleyway, Andre glanced down at the blade half expecting it to be clean but true to what he'd just seen, blood had covered the blade, enough that a thin gem of it dripped down to his thumb.

 What kind of person _was_ this man?

 

* * *

 

It took a surprisingly small amount of effort to press her thumb into the eye socket of one of the men who'd just attacked them, his skull in her grip as she pounded it twice against a wall and threw him back; a ragged inch of ear flying into the street to be picked up in the jaws of a stray cat which barely paused to shake its head before leaping out of sight.

"Is that seven?" Aphel pulled in deep breaths from the fight. "It seems too big for a gang but why are they out in the day time?"

"They're desperate assholes?" Cypress had a coin between her teeth as she responded. "Your point?"

"It's suspicious. " Aphel told her. "Look, they don't even look like a gang. There's no consistency in their clothes, they could be just starting up but new gangs head straight for the richer types thinking it'll pay off."

"Right."

"Right. So, what does that mean? It means they were waiting for us."

"Yeah, what's new."

The sound of a bell from a docking ship fit perfectly with the look of realisation chiming onto Cypress's features.  "Oh bloody mother of halla there's a fucking rat."

"Not necessarily, " Aphel reasoned.

"If I find out who it is they'll be getting a beat down they'll never remember because they won't be waking up!"

It was nice to see the caring side of Cypress through her bitter nonchalance but the threat of a spy was second to a more dire possibility. "I'm more concerned about whether Julien was ambushed in the same way, he might be being held somewhere." She refused to voice the more frightening possibility.

Cypress spat on one of the gangers who groaned from the floor. "Right and knowing this helps us, how? We got no idea where they mighta takin him, nor who mighta dunnit. So is like square one again. We mighta well head back and have lunch for all the good this blood'n has done us."

"Do you always have to be so pessimistic?" Aphel ground her teeth. "Give me a chance to think…"

"Didn't seem to me like they wanted to kidnap anything."

There was one thing, one particular thing that could perhaps, with a slim chance, help them find Julien. If Aphel felt confident enough to try it. The glow on her hand pulsed in response as though it _knew_ what she needed, was begging her to try it. Suddenly she felt suspicious of the thing, tucking her hand discreetly in her pocket. Something was changing, or, it was changing because of her _._ Or maybe _it_ was changing _her._ Aphel could feel herself slipping, losing grip, losing control of _it,_ and in turn her sense of self. Her ability to keep herself in check was the only thing that gave her the strength to take on any challenge; yet here it was, so ragged and raw, like all her pain compounded into the ten centimeters on her palm, flaring up even while she scrunched closed her fist.

If she allowed herself to think this was all a mistake then her will would crumble. The only option was to keep moving forward, doing the best, being the best, and the anchor was her tool to get there.

She pulled it out again and opened her palm to stare it down angrily.

"I need to speak to Solas."

When she didn't get any response, Aphel looked up, noticed she was alone amongst the unconscious thugs, looked about, then jogged to the closest end of the street. There was Cypress, picking up a book and flicking through the pages.

"What the hell?" Aphel complained.

"If you want to stand around your own crime scene clenchin your fists like a mud-for-brains then be my guest, Da'mi."

Aphel rolled her eyes. "They attacked us."

"Oh yea but you're the elf." Cypress gave her an unimpressed look and walked to the next stall. "Must be nice being treated like a shem with your own little throne."

"Guess so," Aphel mumbled, feeling self-conscious and belittled. "Let's just go back."

Cypress shrugged her shoulders. "You can go. I'm shopping."

She wasn't about to leave anyone alone and her exasperated groan didn't move Cypress any faster. So they milled about, almost making their way into Hightown when Feit appeared, arms full of crates which he jogged into a building, coming out empty handed and staring at his feet.

"Hey brother." Aphel snuck up behind him.

Feit spun too fast and tripped over his own legs, gripping Aphel's shirt to keep himself upright.

"How's it all going?" he asked with a distant tone and flattened her shirt carefully.

Aphel shrugged. "So-so. Too much and too little."

"Huh?" He looked around her to Cypress who clarified.

"No idea where the redhead is but we got mugged."

"What?!" he looked back at Aphel, checking her for injuries. "You look okay, you didn't… kill anyone, did you?"

She shrugged. "Probably not kill, more like maim."

"And the Inquisitor wasn't anywhere?" His expression grew fretful, more than hearing that his sister had been attacked.

She shook her head.

He looked at his shoes. "I asked around, the guards first, some said they saw redheads, but two were ladies and the other was a homeless person. So then I asked the fletchers, and no one remembered him. So I went to the merchants guild, and they just kept asking me to work for them." Feit hugged his own shoulders tightly.

Aphel's eye twitched, Julien was either in serious danger or he will be when she finally finds him. No one was allowed to make Feit this upset except her.

"What if he's dead?" he asked them while pacing now, visibly distraught.

"It's alright! We aren't the only ones looking," Aphel told him and reached out to comfort him then realized her hand was still spattered with blood and began cleaning it with the inside of her shirt.

"Aren't we?" Cypress chuckled dryly.

"No," Aphel rounded on her with a look that said _shut it_. "Gwyn and Dorian are as well."

"Yeah," Feit sighed, "and Andre."

Aphel and Cypress gave him confused looks.

"Wait, didn't the big fella go nuts about _not_ looking? Like it'd be dippin his toes in acid?"

Feit gave an unknowing look. "Maybe but I saw him near the Chantry."

"When?" Aphel asked, genuinely curious.

"A moment ago." Feit waved ambiguously. "Should we ask if he's seen Julien?"

"Absolutely."

They quickly hustled through the busy lunch-time streets, dodging market-goers with hands full of fruits, vegetables and cured meats. Feit, being fleet on his feet, sped ahead of them, barely keeping within eyeshot as he climbed fight after flight of stairs until they were in the Chantry square, three sets of keen eyes swept the crowd carefully.

“Are you sure you saw him?” Aphel questioned, seeing neither hide nor hair of their grumpy companion.

“He was _just_ here!” Feit’s voice was confidant, "Wearing a straw hat with some flowers in it but it was definitely him!”

Cypress let out a snarky laugh. “That could have been _any_ Shem, Da'assan – they all look the same.”

"No they don't and he is _kind_ of distinctive," Feit shot back.

"Oh _?_ Is it his ass? _"_ Aphel teased.

"I'm going to look in there," Feit frowned at her, not in the mood for her jokes; speeding into the Chantry without a backwards glance.

Cypress shook her head and punched Aphel's arm. "Shut up."

This time she did, just as she spotted a very familiar back, tall and broad, with a neck like a tree trunk. "He's there." She pointed. "You wait behind, I _know_ he doesn't like _you,"_ Aphel told Cypress.

"I ain't waiting."

Aphel thought about trying to convince her but shrugged as she realised the futility. "Fine, tenna'telwan."

As she approached, she saw him standing side-on in an alleyway – in the midst of what looked to be a rather heated debate with a dirty looking man. While the stranger stood arms lax and stance non-confrontational, Andre still appeared aggravated; his hand cutting through the air in short sharp movements to emphasize whatever it was he was saying. Whatever their relationship was, Andre definitely seemed to be the one in control; his body language _exuded_ dominance. Yet the stranger was un-phased, obviously used to such displays.

Aphel considered walking closer to eavesdrop or, if necessary, step in if a fight broke out, but ultimately decided against it. Andre didn’t seem the type to drag someone into an alley unprovoked and though she couldn't come up with a reason, she was curious to how this would play out. So she walked casually towards a nearby fountain, sitting and pretending to be tired from the long day’s walk as she continued to watch the exchange.

Just sitting and watching was hard; not being able to hear what was going on was enough to make her squirm on the spot. What could Andre Trevelyan possibly be hiding? What would cause him act so suspiciously; yet make such a lousy attempt at being secretive?

As she thought that, Andre already had the man shoved up against a wall by his tunic, leaning in close. Before she could react or decide whether or not to run over however, Blackwall appeared, already crossing the courtyard without even seeing Aphel as he made a beeline to the alley. She couldn't help the pang of loneliness as his eyes failed to notice her, even though he stepped close enough she could have reached out and touched.

Alerted by his entrance to the alley, Andre dropped the other man, snatched something from his hands and shoved it into a pocket before turning to Blackwall with an ugly expression. They argued, loud enough for Aphel to catch phrases and Celeste's name but not enough to grasp the arguments.

Aphel didn't get up to follow when they walked from the square, she didn't believe Andre had been looking for Julien here, so there wasn't much point in doing so beyond curiosity.

Wriggling, gnawing thoughts crept upon her like maggots on a piece of food discarded the night before; why was she here and not in her own reality? What difference was she really making? What right did she have to put her own desires over the lives of the people she'd vowed to fight for? Her selfishness was going to get everyone killed. What if something really had happened to Julien? Would she be responsible for the Inquisition in this world as well? Though it was unrealistic, the panic set in, a splinter working deeper with each attempt to remove it. Then she saw Feit; skipping down the Chapel steps two at a time. The frustration of everything refused to leave, but at least the thoughts were quiet.

He noticed her and she waved him over.

"I couldn't find him anywhere!" Feit whispered anxiously, "did you?"

"Must have already gone." Aphel shook her head, then added, "Sorry, for teasing you."

Feit's eyebrows shot up and he stared speechless for a moment. "Yeah, okay." He bit at his fingernails, "I just want Julien to appear."

Aphel chuckled, thinking of the both of them tumbling out of the sky into forests and fountains. "He will, don't worry, he's kind of got the knack for it."

 

* * *

 

Before his eyes even opened, Julien ritually rubbed the drool from his cheek onto the cloth beneath his head. It wasn't until he felt the sharp pang of a new bruise and the ache of his still bound hands that he remembered where he was and what had been happening.

"You giggled a lot and cried a little too. Dreaming about anything in particular?"

Smokey roasted nug filled his senses and ensnared his empty stomach, enough that Kalvin's remark hardly seemed biting. "What are you making?"

Rising up, he could see the flames licking at the glistening, dripping meat, skewered on sticks jutting from the ground. His mouth drooled again but he swallowed it this time, feeling an even greater wave of hunger hit him.

"Hungry?" Kalvin responded.

He nodded as enthusiastically as his groggy head could manage while he awkwardly sat up, keeping his eyes squinted from the brightness of the sun.

“How long was I out for?” Julien croaked out, wishing his hands were free so he could rub his eyes.

Kalvin laughed almost sweetly as though Julien were making some witty remark. "You don't need to ask me that. I know you're a brilliant hunter with sharp senses, surely you've been keeping track of the time. Haven't you?"

He was trying to make Julien feel stupid and it was infuriating. Worse that it was working; his eyes blurry from sleep made tracking the sun difficult… and he hadn't thought of it before now. "You keep hitting me in the head, of course I'm going to be slightly dazed. My face is probably going to balloon, I need ice, can you give me some ice?"

"You think I have ice?"

"Surely they teach slaves how to cool their drinks?" Julien mocked.

Kalvin laughed again, not so sweetly this time, and summoned a wad of snow in his hand which he wrapped in a swathe of cloth. "You wonder why I keep knocking you out…"

Well, that confirmed he was a mage which meant Julien really couldn’t trust anything around him. If Kalvin could do the illusion magic his Mother could… had they even really left Kirkwall? His head hurt far too much to be thinking about all of this shit, he decided. Best to focus on the delicious nugs before him; a thing he _never_ thought he’d actually be thinking.

He was knocked from his wandering thoughts by Kalvin crouching in front of him with a slight huff. Sweet, sweet relief came moments later as Kalvin pressed the makeshift ice-pack against the sore side of his face and Julien couldn’t help but let out a satisfied sigh at the sensation.

"Hmm..." Kalvin frowned. "Why don't you… put your knee up there… now tilt your head. Yes! There you go."

The exchange ended with Julien siting very awkwardly, knees drawn up with the cold pack sandwiched between them, held where he hunched over to keep the warm swollen part of his face flat against it.

Julien frowned, "What the hell…"

"I'm not going to hold it for you."

_You could untie my hands…_

“And here I was, thinking that you were actually going to start being nice to me,” Julien drawled sarcastically.

"Let's get some things _straight_ here son-" Kalvin paused for a moment, a disgusted look appearing on his face. "Oh that sounded _weird_ , I won't call you that, I'm sorry." He turned the meats and returned to his casual pacing. "Let's get this straight, I am here to help… You by extension, Julien. That means I aim to keep you alive, relatively healthy, not imploding in a mysterious magical green ball of flame which destroys you, your boyfriend, the whole building and probably the entire city and half a mountain."

Julien kept quiet, doing his best to not imagine Dorian being blown up by green magic.

"Getting information from you makes these things a little easier." Kalvin turned the meat again and Julien salivary glands responded eagerly. "I know I can get a little excited, but your co-operation would really do the world some good."

Julien wondered if Kalvin thought he was actually believing any of this, then optimism twinkled from the ashes of his despair; if getting the man's guard down could help get his wrists unbound, he'd be a little closer to escaping.

"Was it really that bad?" Julien mumbled, trying to look concerned.

“I think you already know the answer to that,” Kalvin said dryly, “or was the projectile vomiting not warning enough for you?”

He wasn’t going to let that go, was he? Julien sighed heavily against his knee.

“I’m not going to tell you anything that jeopardizes those I care about but…” he made a good show of looking defeated, as though he were honestly giving up, “tell me what you want to know.”

Kalvin's look changed, that constant sharp edge softening slightly as he plonked himself down close to the fire and Julien. When he spoke, his voice came out markedly quieter, forcing Julien to really listen over the crackling flames and sizzling meat.

"Do you know much about that mark you have? Where it came from or what it does besides closing tears in the fade?"

Julien shook his head truthfully, "I know as much about it as I know about any elven stuff, which it is apparently."

Kalvin seemed to contemplate this and Julien noticed a knife sticking out of the sand across the camp; a very familiar knife.

"Solas told you that but nothing else?"

"He only knows what spirits can tell him." Jules shrugged.

This seemed to get Kalvin's attention, his eyebrow twitched along with a flicker of eyelashes. "Demons?"

“No,” Julien quickly came to Solas’ defence. “No, just non-aggressive spirits. Ones that are willing to share information.”

"Not a distinction many know how to make." Kalvin chuckled, "so he hasn't found a way to remove it but you've duplicated it and him apparently. That kind of magic hasn't even been done in the north. Did he tell you how he did that at least?"

He believed the mark could be duplicated? And people could be as well? If it wouldn’t give him away, Julien would have laughed. Maybe… maybe it would be a good thing to encourage that thinking. It would be better than the truth, surely? But it may also have unforeseen consequences as well.

He didn’t know what to do, what to say.

If Aphel were in his position, she’d already have escaped or talked her way out. If it were Andre, he’d have busted out of the rope and pummelled Kalvin before he’d even get a word out. Julien sighed. Why was he so incompetent?

 _Incompetent_. Perhaps that could work.

“I honestly have no idea how he did it. Most magic is beyond my understanding,” Julien spoke more honestly than he had all day, “I used to think rubbing Rashvine on my hands would give me magic: I’m really the wrong person to ask.”

The surprised gaze Kalvin gave him was on the face of every person he told that story, right before they laughed hysterically. He sometimes used it as an ice-breaker at parties to ease his anxious self-awareness. Better they laughed with him than at him.

Kalvin didn't laugh.

"That's different, I'll admit. I thought having baths hotter than I could bare would get rid of my magic; still had to jump from them when they began icing over."

Julien would have laughed if it had been any other situation. _What sort of Tevene didn't want magic?_ Asked a voice of assumption in his head.

"Why..?"

"What kind of Tevene wouldn't want to be a mage?" Kalvin chuckled as Julien gulped - he'd forgotten the mind reading thing.

"I wasn't born there. I went there when I worked out that it wasn't going to go away."

"But…"

"I'm elven, I did notice that. I guess I'd preferred to be a slave than have my mouth sewn shut. We don't all have such luxurious choices as I did."

 _Sewed shut?_ The image conjured was horrifying and confusing. "Who would do that?" Julien mumbled.

Kalvin gave him a pointed look. "You never asked your friend what happens to Qunari mages?"

 _Oh._ Suddenly a few things started making sense. His unusual accent for one, maybe his height too, the way he interrogated was a little Qunari but he probably didn't stay with them for that long.

"Do a lot of Qunari mages go to Tevinter?" Julien asked, genuinely baffled.

"I heard of a few viddathari trying the same."

“Well, it _is_ the best place for a mage to go. You’d have been in a different kind of trouble if you’d gone south.”

That had been _his_ plan if he’d found Gwyn at the Conclave; go to Tevinter. She’d have been safe there and the two of them would have been free of their Father, even if it meant Julien himself would be considered a second-class citizen with his lack of magic.  He shifted his cheek a little as to not get the icy-cloth stuck to his face.

“How hard was it to get into Tevinter? Weren’t the Qunari at war with them back then as well?”

Kalvin sighed. "When haven't they been at war? Let's put it in perspective for you; Compared to that, kidnapping you was like plucking candied fruit from a sleeping child. No offence, you really ought to be more aware of your situation Jules, work harder on that assassin training."

Julien groaned. He really _had_ been watching him for a long time, hadn’t he? He’d barely even begun his training, avoided doing it most of the time. It wasn’t his fault he was absolutely inept at close-range combat… or maybe it was. Damn. If he survived this, he was seriously going to have work on that. If he’d mastered at least _one_ of the moves Heir had tried to teach him… 

“I didn’t sleep well – you caught me off guard,” he said, looking away from him and catching another glance of the familiar knife across the way. “Is that my knife?”

This time Kalvin did laugh, covering half his face, turning the meats, then looking back to Julien when his chuckles had died down. "I'll give it back to you eventually if you cross your heart promise not to try and stab me." He laughed again at his own joke. "Now Julien, I know we've stumbled into a heartfelt meaningful conversation but I need to know a little more before we can go anywhere - don’t roll your eyes."

He rolled his eyes.

“What else could you possibly want to know? I feel like we’ve covered everything…” he whined, “And I’m hungry – are those done yet?”

"Just a tad more," Kalvin answered both questions. "Just before Aphel appeared, relax, just wait until I've finished; you managed to disappear for four days without a trace and no one could work it out, not even Dorian. Must have been a good hiding place, right? I want to know where you went."

“Yeah and I want meat in my mouth but I’m not getting that right now, am I?” Julien snapped pettily.

He didn’t know how to answer that without it sounding like a lie and his hunger was really starting to get to him, along with the thumping headache he’d developed. Why were all of these questions so important anyway? Kalvin had got what he’d wanted: Julien. He assumed he was going to be delivered to… wait a second.

“Your Master isn’t my Mother,” he said, remembering the last words Kalvin had spoken before knocking him out the last time. “You said it was someone I know but… who is she? I swear to you; I’ll tell you the truth about where I went if you tell me who she is!”

Kalvin was still laughing at Julien's turn of phrase regarding the meat when his body language became more serious. Julien hoped he hadn't pushed the boundary too far as a miniature jolt of fear reminded him of the ropes around his wrists. Instead Kalvin leaned across and grabbed the melted snow-pack from Julien's knee, then pinched his chin to inspect the slightly swollen cheek.

"Should I say _you'll meet them soon enough_ and laugh like a maniac?" He let go of Julien's face, presumably satisfied with what he saw or perhaps it was just that the meat was done, as he bent to pluck them from the fire. One he skewered in the earth at Julien's knees while the other he blew on gently and began to eat. "We're at a very important junction in your continued survival, my cute little Julien, so I do advise you to just be honest about this. I am a resourceful sort of person, so I can, eventually, get this information. But I don't want to do those sorts of things you hear rumours about 'blood mages' doing. It won't do either of us any good if you can't remember your own name."

Another reminder that Kalvin was not a man with whom one could fuck. Julien scowled at the stick of meat for lack of response.

“Don’t I get a plate at least?” Julien murmured, not wanting to look like a complete fool while he ate.

He doubted Kalvin would do anything too drastic, not when Julien’s mother hadn’t even had the chance to see him yet. She may not be the exact person he thought she was but he knew she hadn’t lied about loving him. The thought made his chest ache. He missed her so much. Knowing what she was, what she’d always been, didn’t stop him from loving her, from missing her warm hugs and silly jokes. He hoped she would listen to reason when the time came – he didn’t want to live in a world where the only parent left was his _Father._

"Does it look like a brought a plate?"

“I don’t know; I can’t see shit from where I’m sitting!” Julien snipped, “You had a stool before, let me use _that_.”

Kalvin groaned in annoyance, "How are you going to eat it off the stool? It will just roll off!"

“Untie my hands and I’ll hold it in place,” Julien said a condescending tone.

He had no idea why he was riling Kalvin up, it would only end in him being knocked the fuck out again. Perhaps it was his way of gaining a little control over the situation. Or maybe he was just trying to be difficult - he was good at that.

“I don’t want to eat it off the sick with just my mouth – it’ll look weird!”

"Nobody is going to watch you nibble at the stick of meat," Kalvin said while grinning, "and I am way too old for you to keep blushing like that every time I flirt with you, so just eat, or tell me where you went."

Now he _really_ didn’t want to eat it off the stick. Trust Kalvin to make even eating sound undesirable! So Julien scowled at him, the look losing it edge due to the deep red of his face, and shimmied himself around so his back was facing Kalvin. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“I told you: I’ll tell you where I went when you tell me your Master’s name,” Julien insisted, leaning forward and nibbling the nug a little.

For a while they ate in peace, Kalvin seemed to space out again as he had before, almost dropping his meal, but Julien refused to cow to his threat, some part of him not really believing Kalvin would do it, whatever _it_ might entail exactly. If Julien could get to his knife then it wouldn't become an issue anyway.

So after eating the most awkward meal of his life, he laid down on his side facing the fire, tired despite spending probably most of the day unconscious.

Why was he so... awful at his job? He felt the burn of shame deep in his chest; smoldering and aching so bad he barely felt his bruises and scrapes or the pounding in his head. _Useless_. He was utterly and completely useless on his own. Maker, he couldn't even buy arrows without something happening to him.

Celeste would probably laugh at him if she saw him tied up like this. Andre would shake his head and make some infuriatingly condescending comment. Gwyn... Fuck. He didn't even know what she'd think - he couldn't really say that he knew her anymore...

He let out a long, shaky breath. Spiraling downward like that wouldn't help at all but the weight on his chest wouldn't lift. He hadn't had such trouble pulling himself out of his seemingly bottomless ditch of self-loathing since... well since Ostwick.

His time with the Inquisition had been far from easy but having Cassandra, Bull, Dorian and everyone else believing in him and fully supporting him had been... Nice. Maybe that was because they'd been strangers to him; that none of them had known who he was or where he'd come from. There had been no expectations, no preconceptions to taint their view of him.

And he'd, dare he say it, flourished? Spread his wings. Being the Inquisitor was an awful weight to bear... but everyone had trusted him to do the right thing and get things done. He'd been able to cast off his past blunders and began anew as the man he'd always wanted to be.

Of course, that facade had been torn asunder the moment Gwyn, Feit and Dorian had seen what he was truly like in the Fade...

"Such a dire look on your face. A copper for your thoughts?"

 For once, Julien was thankful for Kalvin's babbling.

“I think you gave me a concussion,” Julien deflected, staring into the fire for so long his eyes began to hurt.

"I won't have to listen to you whine if you fall comatose." Kalvin settled himself against a tree opposite Julien. "Probably would be easier to travel too."

_Asshole._

“You could at least pretend to give a shit,” Julien snipped, struggling around a bit as he tried to stand up.

He writhed around on the ground, growing progressively more and more frustrated until he finally gave up and rolled over to fully face Kalvin. The amused grin on his face made Julien want to kick it in.

“I don’t want to give you an excuse to knock me out again but I can’t exactly be compliant if my feet are tied up, can I?”

Kalvin snorted a laugh. "You're cute. Let's make a deal; if you try to run, I'll make sure you never walk again."

The way his voice ran ice cold sent painful waves of fear down Julien's spine. _He's lying, he's just trying to scare me._ Set aside the fact it was working.

Whether it was the fear or conscience that did it, Julien remained quiet as the elf stepped over, knelt down and carefully untied the knots at Julien's ankles, watching him all the while with a small smirk from noticing Julien's clenched jaw.

 _You are going to fucking regret this._ Julien swore.

 

* * *

 

A mage being escorted by a Templar, which only a few years ago would have been a common occurrence, now only drew undue attention. Gwyn stepped cautiously through the tavern behind Ser Rowan, hanging her head slightly and making vain attempts to hide her face from the onlookers, their curious gazes feeling heavy. So many witnesses. If the Commander came down here and asked after them…

Ser Rowan stopped suddenly and Gwyn, so lost in her thoughts, ran straight into his back with an audible clang. She staggered back and bit back a curse as she held her head in her hands, nursing what would soon become quite the bump.

“Oh? Are you alright?”

She waved a hand dismissively.

“It’s nothing I can’t fix myself. Do you see Dorian anywh-” Her words died on her lips at the sight him standing within arm's reach of her, arms crossed against his chest with a raised brow.

“What took you so long?” he said with more exasperation than irritation, “I thought you were just going to get your staff?”

“Er, yes. About that…” Gwyn said sheepishly, desperately searching her mind for a quick answer, “Its broken. We should leave now.”

"Good, finally." Dorian muttered before realising how sharp his tone was. "I just mean, I hate this idleness."

Gwyn smiled and nodded, following them out into the streets.

"The Templar really isn’t necessary,” Dorian commented, side-eyeing the armoured man accompanying them, “What happened to your other one? Lysette, wasn't it? She had a much nicer scowl.”

"I don't scowl, I smoulder," Rowan joked.

“She wanted some time to herself while we’re in the city,” she said coolly, keeping what had happened to herself for now, just to avoid any more time being wasted on arguing, "and I feel uncomfortable being without an escort so..."

The Templar cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I volunteered to help guide her around the city. I used to be stationed here so I know the streets fairly well."

"Oh were you?" Dorian looked quite surprised, "Well. Good on you… Ser Templar?"

"Rowan."

"Cole," came a voice from behind Dorian, causing the Tevene to start and spin around.

"Cole! Don't bloody _do_ that!" he huffed but pulled the kid into a hug.

"Where did they come from?" Rowan's eyes were wide.

Although his voice was muffled, Gwyn could tell how distraught Cole was.

“He’s gone!”

 She stepped forward and brought a hand to his shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. “Who is gone, Cole?”

“He… the market! I felt him… startled, then gone, so I went as soon as I could. But there’s nothing! He’s completely gone I can’t-“ Cole sobbed dryly into Dorian's chest.

“Who was startled Cole? Who? Was it Julien?” Dorian tried to pull away to get a better look at him but Cole held fast.

“The other one felt familiar,” he finally pulled away and turned his gaze to Gwyn, “they felt like you did at the start. Wild and... Cunning...”

Gwyn’s confusion lasted only seconds. Maker. He was talking about the spirit who had possessed her. She felt as though a bucket of cold water had been poured over her as her fingers began prickling and locking up with terror. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck-

_Calm yourself. I am here._

Fortitude’s words comforted her only by the barest amount; it had only been a few weeks since it’d happened - the wound was too fresh.

_They can’t get you anymore._

Was it still here? What had it done with Julien? Oh Maker - what if it had gotten into _him_ now? Julien didn’t have a spirit to help him! What if he was out there right now, unable to stop his own body from doing horrible, horrible things?

_Your heart is beating too fast. Breathe - Breathe!_

Rowan was frowning at her, giving her an odd look. What if he thought it was her? What if they thought it was still inside of her; sinking it’s inky, disgusting tendrils into her mind and forcing her to-

"Let's go to where you felt him last," Dorian stammered as he turned with Cole still fastened under his arm. "We'll work things out from there. Somehow."

Gwyn jumped at Rowan's gauntleted hand coming down a little hard on her shoulder. 

"It won't be the same spirit - it was banished back in Skyhold, was it not? It's far more likely to be a similarly aligned one," he whispered only to her, "and besides, you aren't foolish enough to say yes again, are you?"

"W-what?" She hated herself for the stammer but the shock of his words was too much to keep it from happening. 

He softened his grip and slid his hand between her shoulder blades, guiding her forward as he'd done earlier in the Hanged Man yet slowly, as if waiting for Dorian and Cole to take a more substantial led toward the market, keeping quiet until they were out of earshot.

"The spirit cannot get you unless you let it in," he reminded her, keeping their conversation as private as it could be in the middle of a bustling street, "as long as you stay strong and keep your wits about you, it can't take you."

"I've said yes without questioning it before, what's to say I won't slip up and do it again?" 

The words fell out of her mouth and dread caused her stomach to drop, her heart beating into overdrive again. Why did she say that out loud? And to a Templar nonetheless! To her shock however, he smiled in an almost carefree way, as if they'd shared a joke no one else were privy to.

"It's curious that you'd trust me with that information." 

_Be careful with your words; this one seems... off._

He chuckled and it took her a moment to realize it was her stunned expression that amused him, not Fortitude's words. It was rather disorienting, being able to hear him all the time these days, often making conversations more than a little tricky. 

"Well, you didn't seem the type to- What I mean is, you didn't rat me out before so-" She was stumbling over her words, making herself look foolish.

 "There's no need to get so worked up; I'm not going to cut you down or drag you off for the brand." 

"Of course." Silence descended between them as they clambered up a flight of stairs; Dorian and Cole ahead of them still with the latter dragging the former by the hand through the crowd. Gwyn let out a breath of relief. She'd been so careful about keeping quiet about that terrible time up until this point, she supposed the stress of the last day was getting to her. Julien's disappearance. Andre's... confession. A bolt of pain struck her right in the chest at the reminder. She'd been, as usual, trying to avoid thinking about it; it hurt too much. 

"You are a Spirit Healer, yes?" 

 She nodded, slightly confused and not entirely sure how that was relevant to what they'd been talking about. 

"Right, so, by nature, you're more likely to make a mistake and let something nasty in. It's often difficult to tell a helpful spirit from a malicious one," he offered with a small shrug.  

Though the sentiment was sweet, trying to help her shake the blame, to feel a little better about her mistakes, it just wasn't that simple. It hadn't simply been a cunning spirit, it was... she let out a shaky sigh; When they found Julien safe… Then she'd tell him and _only_ him what had really happened. 

"We ought to catch up," she said, redirecting the conversation back on course, "Cole's going to need my help." 

The part of the city they finally arrived at was now so full of people they had ended up forming a line of hands so as not to lose track of one another. 

"Ugh, Mid-day Markets." Dorian half-heartedly complained as they were each jostled about between bodies. "At least we'll be going home lighter, I'm sure I've lost three gold coins already." 

"S-stop, so loud." Cole mumbled to the crowd. 

"If only that could work," Rowan remarked and glanced around the courtyard they'd paused in. 

"Is this where he disappeared Cole?" Dorian asked and received a nod. 

"The dandelions. Hate them, _why_ can't people look after their own gardens." 

Dorian looked at the nearest bed, overgrown he supposed but there were torn out dandelions tossed at the foot of it. 

"and then… where?" 

"Gone, nowhere, nothing, just… empty." Cole repeated. 

"It's hardly empty." Gwyn pointed out. "All these people, the stalls and such, wouldn't they have seen him? He's tall as a horse with bright red hair. Pretty distinctive in most places." 

Cole worried at his knuckles and fiddled with the brim of his hat as he felt waves of anxiety fluctuate though Dorian who mumbled sardonically 

"This'll be a breeze then." 

A breeze did blow through; cold and lonely, which only added to the growing collective dread as each person they questioned or bribed resulted in an even greater gap in their knowledge. Dorian, who'd started shouting at the vendors and upsetting their children, was sitting on the garden bed, fiddling with a dying dandelion whose seeds had already flown, leaving the head bare. He thought of Solas. 

The book Julien had given him last night from Solas was back in the tavern in their room. So if somehow a clue lie inside it would be a while before he could find it. 

"What if..." he mumbled to the bald husk. "The Mark took him into the fade?" When Julien disappeared for four days he'd been convinced it was a possibility. Which turns out wasn't far from wrong, just slightly off target as a second 'inquisitor' appeared alongside him in his return. If it happened again, who's to say he couldn't fall into another dimension altogether with no way back? 

"You said it was 'empty', right Cole?" 

Wherever Cole was, as usual he heard Dorian's query and appeared nearby. 

"Cut out, a hole that's been stitched up." Cole waxed in response.

It didn't sound right. Nothing sounded right and Dorian was infuriated by it. Everything had an answer and answers could only be true.

“If Julien had been pulled through the veil, wouldn’t it have created a rift?” Dorian voiced his thoughts as they occurred to him, “surely we would have heard if there’d been a rift in the middle of the city, even if it was for just a moment. So that means…”

It meant that it couldn’t have happened like that, either on purpose or accidental. He let out a growl of frustration. If not Julien, then who could have made him dissapear? Teleportation was not possible, or at least he’d thought so before Aphel had come… that was it! He stood suddenly and bustled his way over to Gwyn and her Templar, both of which were questioning an old elven woman.

“We have to find Aphel or Solas – I have a plan that I’m sure will work!” he exclaimed, holding onto the little spark of hope in his chest.

"What is it?" Gwyn and Rowan asked in unison. 

Dorian tapped his boot; asked Cole to find the elves if he could, and stroked his chin. 

"Right now is not the time to explain everything you don't know, but basically, we'll teleport him back to us. Aphel and Julien both have marks and they're innately linked, so why _wouldn't_ it work again?" he laughed with the glee of pure elation.

"What if he's on the privy?" Gwyn pointed out, "when you teleport him." 

Dorian laughed again. "Okay, not going to ask why that’s what struck you first." 

Cole put his hand out, getting both their attentions then stumbled across his words, as though pouring them straight from his head. "Julien would be very upset, embarrassment, worse than an arrow through the chest." 

Any amusement Dorian had found in Gwyn’s comment died with Cole’s.  He did not need a reminder of how… _mortal_ Julien was. That arrow had been too close a call – if Gwyn hadn’t been there, what would they have done? Would Julien have died then and there?

Dorian frowned at the thought and felt a lump forming in his throat. What if Julien were in a similar situation now? What if he were laying in some ditch somewhere bleeding out with no one to help?

No. There was no use in entertaining what-ifs; Dorian would expend all his energy on _doing_ something instead of idling on worry.

“I would rather him upset and embarrassed then have him taken from us,” Gwyn commented sadly, “Cole, can you sense them?”

He nodded and they were off in an instant once again winding through alleys and jogging up stairways. So many stairs. Their marathon ended when Dorian jogged to Aphel who looked to be comforting Feit, shaking his head with one hand on his brow. Cole paused however and looked at Gwyn, peered around the Chantry square beneath the brim of his hat.

"Did they hear us?"

"Not yet, they're just over there." Gwyn pointed to Feit who was now waving her over.

 Cole's head dipped low, shaking just as Feit's had been, "Threads to weave and knot, spiralling to a spider's web he thinks he walks safely but it's our web, and he is an insect too."

 "What're you saying?" Gwyn frowned, "What do you mean?"

 "The spirit was here."


End file.
